Memory Lane
by blown-transistor
Summary: Post-Avengers, Steve gets to see Peggy one last time after she makes a demanding phone call to Fury. The agent formerly in charge of finding him receives her new assignment. Once again, it's Peggy's captain. Between the agent and the things Peggy left behind, can Steve find his way? Steve/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: _This chapter has been updated as of 6/5/2012_. **As of this moment, chapter four is complete and being edited. This story now has a beta, the wonderful Sale el Sol. You may know her from "Legerdemain". We are going back through the first three chapters and making minor changes. No plot or anything will change, strictly little things. I'd recommend it if you go back and re-read, but if you don't, you won't miss anything. I'm one of those people that can write something, read it out loud, have it make perfect sense, and leave out entire words. I'm a beta for two stories myself, so I can certainly appreciate having a second set of eyes.

I apologize for all the breaks, but I _am_ writing different scenes within one chapter. The rest of them shouldn't be like that.

I like having a song in mind when I write, that sort of sets a mood. For this chapter, it's "Street Fighting Man" by The Rolling Stones.

And now for the obligatory disclaimer. Of course, nothing is mine. Even Bess Williams is only mostly mine, given her "relationship" to Peggy. All copyrighted things belong to … whoever they belong to.

Chapter One: "Street Fighting Man"

_Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy,  
'Cause summer's here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy_

"_I know he's alive, director. I knew Bess was keeping something about him from me. I had a feeling that you found him. I saw the news. A woman said _Captain America_ saved her life. There's no denying it now. You and I both know it. I'm ninety-three. I'm dying. You owe me a big one…"_ the feeble female British voice still commanded respect with a simple word.

"Agent Gorman," Nick Fury's deep voice replied wearily, keeping his one good eye on Captain Steve Rogers passing on his farewells to his fellow combatants in the recent battle on Manhattan.

"_Walt's dead. It's Carter again."_

"Agent Carter, How many more times are you going to call in favors, let alone favors for something I repaid years ago?"

"_Just this one last time. This is my last request, Nick. I'd like to give him some closure. We all owe him that."_

"Peggy, I will send him to you because we all owe something to him, not because I owe you. Putting Bess on what Stark called "Capsicle Duty" was the payment for…"

"_Time's wasting,"_ Peggy Carter whispered before the line went dead.

_That it is_. Fury quickly pocketed his cell phone and strode across the wide street to where Steve Rogers stood, about to mount his vintage motorcycle.

Steve closed his light eyes and breathed deeply at the sight of the fearsome SHIELD director coming toward him. "Another mission, sir? We just finished one."

Mustering the closest thing to a smile possible, Fury shook his head. "I just got off the phone with your biggest fan."

"No offense, sir, but I'm a little tired. Can meeting some fans wait?"

"This may be your last chance to see Agent Carter if you'd like to see her alive, captain. She just saw you battling monsters and saving people on the television. Still want to wait?"

Steve froze, convinced his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. "P-Peggy? Peggy's here?"

"She's in Queens, in Ridgewood, but she's here. She wants to see you, _one last time_." Fury motioned towards the dark SUV he had just been standing next to.

"One last time?" Steve questioned shakily, abandoning his motorcycle and walking towards the SUV.

"I'll explain on the way."

_Ridgewood? If she was any closer to Manhattan, she'd be in_… He suddenly stopped walking in the middle of the street. _Brooklyn. It was as close as she could get to me without actually _getting to me_. _

"Coming, Captain?" Fury called from the back of the car.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Steve bounded across the street.

* * *

Peggy had gone back to her maiden name after her husband passed away, _just in case_ they found Steve. Besides, Peggy Carter sounded better in her opinion. She handed the phone back to the girl in her mid-twenties sitting next to the bed with her. "He's coming, Bess. Fury's bringing him."

The girl smiled down at her frail great-aunt, willing herself not to cry as she saw a tear slip down her wrinkled visage. "Did you doubt he would?" she questioned softly in a southern accent..

"Fury is Fury. At least you'll finally get to meet him," she winced, sliding back down in the bed.

"You forget that I did meet him, Aunt Peggy. I got paid for it, too. He may have been encased in ice, but I met him. He was still the 'Capsicle'." She tried to stifle a laugh unsuccessfully as her copper colored hair fell in front of her face.

"Virginia Elizabeth Williams, what in the world could be funny at a time like this?" the older woman said in a raspy voice after a deep cough.

"I'd be willing to bet Stark let his favorite epithet for your captain slip at some point while they were in an enclosed space. Either that, or made a comment about him being spry for being ninety. You'll have to ask him when he gets here." Hearing a loud knock, Bess turned her head towards the door and squeezed Peggy's hand. "I'd bet anything that's them."

"That fast? There's no way they could have gotten here from…"

"Don't question it, Aunt Peggy." She rose from her seat and made her way down the carpeted stairs of the row house. As she looked through the peephole, she breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door. _Although, I never thought I'd be relieved to see Nick Fury… _"Aunt Peggy's room is upstairs and to your immediate right," she said looking directly at Director Fury, despite the comment being for his companion.

Steve looked past Fury's black leather trench coat at the diminutive woman he'd bet would barely come up to the middle of his sternum with hair the color of a new penny. He held out his hand to her. "Ma'am, I'm…"

"I'm well aware of who you are, Captain Rogers," she said dismissively, still holding the other man's gaze, arms at her sides. "I believe my aunt is anxious to see you, as I'm anxious to talk to Director Fury."

Taken aback by the strange woman with an accent that sounded out of place in New York City, he bounded up the tan carpeted stairs and knocked on the door to his immediate right.

* * *

"Agent Williams," Fury began, clasping his hands behind his back after Bess shut the large wooden door behind him. "I believe that it's time for you to come back to us."

"My aunt's still living, sir," she retorted, leaning back against the oak banister.

"How long did they give her this morning? I may have been trying to save the world this morning, but I know the doctor saw her."

Dropping the "agent" shield she immediately put up when in his presence, she dropped her face into her hands and sighed heavily. Her dark eyes meeting Fury's one, she wiped her hands on her black tee shirt and shoved her hands into her blue jean pockets. "They don't expect her to make it through the night. I know she suspected that we found him. Then, we watched tv today. I always told you that she was going to refuse to die until she saw him again."

"Then I got him here in time."

"Why wouldn't you let me tell her?" she whispered.

"You know her. She would have not stopped calling me. She would have willed herself out of that bed and walked to Manhattan to see him. We needed him focused on _this_, not her. You know that as well as I do." In a rare moment of compassion, he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Once she's gone, I know things are going to be bumpy. He's, to borrow Loki's phrase, 'a man out of time'. All this time, he was doing what he did for _her_. He's going to be rudderless in a world he doesn't understand."

"What are you asking me to do, sir?"

* * *

Closing his eyes and biting his lower lip until he was certain it was about to bleed, Steve flattened out the imaginary wrinkles in his pleated khakis and blue and white button-down shirt. With a shaking hand, he patted down his light blonde hair. _I haven't aged a day. I haven't changed my hair or my clothes. Director Fury says Peggy's ninety-three. _

"Steve, stop primping out there and come in. No one else ever bothers to knock, so it has to be you," a voice called from the other side of the door shattering his thoughts, changed slightly by time, but enough to send his heart into palpitations.

He couldn't help but smile as he turned the brass knob and opened the door.

* * *

"You're the closest thing to anything that remotely registers as familiar in this world to him once she goes," Fury began, avoiding using Peggy's name.

She shook her head, unable to wrap her mind around what she knew her boss was trying to tell her. "Sir, he doesn't know me from Adam. I'm a stranger."

"A stranger with a connection to _her_. It's something to build on. Use that connection to bring him up to speed. We both know she's leaving this house to you, but you're not going to stay here because Stark's offered you a very nice place in that monstrosity. There's enough history in this place, plus your history degree. Don't think we forgot about that, Agent Williams. Use that history to help him. Your previous assignment was to find him. Your new assignment is to find him a place in this world." He quickly opened the front door and took two large duffel bags and a punching bag from a faceless agent outside. "Goodbye for now, Agent Williams. Give my regards to your great-aunt." As quickly as he arrived with a swirl of his intimidating black leather trench coat, he exited the row house in the same fashion.

_Find him a place in this world? What in the hell does that even _mean_? _She shook her head as she sank down onto the bottom step and leaned her head against the spindle connecting the step to the handrail. She'd just begun picking at the hole that began to form in the right knee of her faded jeans when her world ground to a halt with three frantically shouted sentences from upstairs:

"Ma'am, get help please! Something's wrong! Peggy isn't breathing!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**** _This chapter has been edited as o__f 6/8/2012. _**Thanks to my wonderful beta, Sale el Sol. As always, I don't own anything. Just borrowing the toys. This chapter's song is "Whatever Gets You Through the Night" by John Lennon.**_  
_**

Chapter Two: "Whatever Gets You Through the Night"

_Hold me darlin' come on listen to me  
I won't do you no harm  
Trust me darlin' come on listen to me_

Bess Williams sat hunched forward, head in her pale hands, at the small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen. The row house she'd shared with her great-aunt for the past six years found itself in a state of chaos around her.

It all started when Peggy Carter, from her bed, saw the return of her captain, Captain America, fighting alongside what had to be some sort of Viking straight from a Renaissance fair on one of the twenty-four hour news networks. The downward spiral continued with that same captain shouting that she wasn't breathing. It ended with paramedics being unable to revive her, declaring her deceased, and taking her body away as Bess called the family.

Everyone in her family (which now only consisted of her parents, her sister and her brother) had decided long ago that their aunt wouldn't "go gently into that good night" before being vindicated when someone found the downed ship containing Steve Rogers. She never expected that the family joke would turn prophetic.

She lifted her head from her hands. _Captain Rogers. Shit. He waits seventy years to see her again, and she dies five minutes after he walks in. I hope he hasn't offed himself. Fury would personally use me as a human shield on an aircraft or launch me into space or something. _Rising from the old table, she began making her way through the eerily silent house. She quickly ascertained that he hadn't come downstairs, as the bags Fury brought lay untouched by the front door, punching bag included. She padded through the downstairs until she stood at the foot of the stairs and heard muffled noises from upstairs. Eager to give the poor man a moment to compose himself in case he had been crying, she climbed the first two steps a little louder than normal so he could hear her. "Captain, are you up there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he answered in a voice heavy with tears before clearing his throat.

"Mind if I come up, sir? If you need some time by yourself…"

"It's Steve," he interjected as coldly as she had when he tried to introduce himself. "Just Steve, ma'am. And this is your house, so who am I to say where you can and can't go?"

"I'm far too young for you to call me 'ma'am', Steve," she sighed, surprised at how good it felt to be actually talking to him in a state where he could respond. "The house is…was Aunt Peggy's. If you don't want me up there, I'll just go hang out on the couch."

He met her statement with a sigh. "I guess some company, no matter who it is, is better than being alone."

_I'll take that as a "come on up, Bess__.__" _She slowly plodded up the stairs and found him sitting on the worn carpet on the floor leaning up against the closed door to Peggy's room with his knees tucked up under his chin, suddenly fighting the tears beginning to sting her eyes. For what seemed like the thousandth time in the last several hours, she swiped a finger below her lower lashes to rid herself of her quickly liquefying eye makeup. "If I'm to call you Steve, Captain, you call me Bess," she whispered with a sad smile as she slid ungracefully down to the floor with him and extended her hand.

As he took her outstretched hand and shook it, Steve was finally able to assess the other occupant of the house. She couldn't have been any taller than five foot five, head and shoulders shorter than him at least. Her pale face was littered with a mixture of natural freckles and smudged eye makeup around her brown eyes. He made a mental note to ask her, if he ever could get up the courage, whether "shiny new penny" was her natural hair color.

"I… I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have been abrupt with you. It was rude," she apologized, seeing the tear tracks on his face. She shook her head. "The last time that Aunt Peggy called Fury about me, I was given a map, a folder, cold weather gear and a flashlight. He then proceeded to drop me off somewhere in Newfoundland with some grumbled remark about calling him if I 'found a goddamned spaceship with a frozen man inside'," Bess said, failing to suppress a sad laugh.

Brushing his hair back into place, Steve raised an eyebrow to the curious girl. "I don't understand… Were y_ou_ looking for _me_?" A realization hit him. "You're Agent Williams?"

She let out a nervous laugh as her stomach growled loudly. "I think that's a story best told over some dinner, wouldn't you say?" When he didn't respond, she reached over and touched his arm gently. "You've been sitting here since the paramedics left, Steve. Let me at least make you a sandwich," she said, rising from the uncomfortable floor and offering a hand to pull him up.

Clenching and unclenching his fists several times, he contemplated whether or not to go with Bess. He looked up at her hand and pleading eyes and thrust his large rough hand into hers. Truthfully, he was more than capable of moving into a standing position on his own, but wasn't it rude not to take a hand when it was offered? He suddenly didn't know what to think when he realized that her hand was as clammy as his as he let her "pull" him up.

Letting go of his hand, she nervously laced her fingers together and cracked her knuckles. After she was halfway down the stairs, she turned around as if to confirm that he was still following her. "What kind of sandwich do you want?" she asked as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. "I've got turkey or ham."Opening the old Frigidaire, she pulled out a loaf of wheat bread, mayonnaise and cheese.

"Uh, ham, I guess," Steve murmured, staring cautiously at the microwave.

After Bess removed the deli meat from the fridge, she shut the door a little harder than she should have, shattering his fascination with the microwave hanging from the cabinet above the stove. "After the funeral, we can start showing you the world, starting with the microwave. How's that sound?"

He nervously scratched the back of his neck, slowly raising his gaze to meet hers. "I think that'd be good."

"I'm no gourmet chef, so a lot of the things I make come out of there." She reached up into the cabinet and pulled out two plates. "Why don't you sit down? I did promise to make it for you."

"If you insist."

"I do," she grinned as she spread the mayonnaise on the identical sandwiches.

Pulling a chair up to the table, he shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid having her see them shaking. "So," he began softly, unsure of how to begin to ease the tension. "Bess… Isn't that a bit 'old fashioned'? It sounds almost as out of place as I feel."

"I suppose there's a lot you have to take in, Steve," she said with a hint of resignation as she carried the sandwiches to the table. Sitting down next to him, she passed him one of the plain white porcelain plates. "There's a general trend now of 'what's old-fashioned now is cool again', so you might not have such a hard time. That's not why I go by Bess, though."

"Then what is?" He took a bite of his sandwich. "If you don't mind me asking, that is," he added quickly.

"Mom's a bit of a history nut, so when she saw I had red hair, she named me after Queen Elizabeth I and the state named for her: Virginia Elizabeth. They called her 'Good Queen Bess'. The nickname stuck I guess." After she took a couple of bites of her own sandwich, she dropped it back on the plate. "I believe I also promised you the rest of the story of my time in the frozen tundra of Canada, some of which coincides with your stay there."

Steve nodded furiously, unable to speak due to a mouthful of half-chewed ham sandwich.

"Calm down, Captain. Last thing we need is you choking," she laughed, smiling genuinely. "I guess I have to backtrack a little, though. I'm sure Tony Stark mentioned at some point that his dad was one of the ones looking for you."

He nodded again. "And found the Tesseract instead."

"Was that what it was? Aunt Peggy mentioned they found something else that was on the plane before it went down, but she never told me what it was. I always assumed it was because she couldn't."

"That's what it was alright. That's why half of Manhattan is in ruins," he said gruffly, recalling his remark to Fury that they should have left it where they found it. "Wait, what do you mean 'they'?"

"She helped Howard look for you as long as she could. When he stopped looking, she stopped. Well, she never _stopped_, but she wasn't out on a boat in the middle of the North Atlantic anymore." She cleared her throat and stood up from the table, obviously fighting back tears at Peggy's memories. "I need a fucking beer. You?" At his nod, she crossed the kitchen and grabbed two brown bottles out of the fridge. Popping both tops off in rapid succession with the magnetic bottle opener, she handed him one and smiled at his wary expression. "Beer's changed since you've been under, Cap. Sam Adams. I promise it's good. Try it."

Suppressing a cough after the first sip, he looked back up at her. "It's strong."

"It's an IPA. It's supposed to be strong." At his still confused expression, she realized she might need to clarify exactly what an IPA was. "IPA stands for 'India Pale Ale'. The British had to modify a recipe for pale ale in order for it to survive the journey to their colonies in India. I love it." Bess took a large swig of the dark beer and returned to her seat. "Back to the story. So I graduated from Columbia two years ago and got on with SHIELD. Aunt Peggy was absolutely livid, convinced Tony was going to blow me up with that Iron Man suit of his or something. She proceeded to call Tony who in turn called Fury. After an hour on the phone with him, unable to eavesdrop in on the conversation, she comes back out to me. Says Fury's put me somewhere where I won't get blown up."

He took another cautious sip of the strange beer, slowly beginning to come around to the strong flavor. "And then he hands you a map?"

"The map where she and Howard had marked where they searched. Next thing I know, I'm in the middle of nowhere, freezing my ass off, looking for a weird plane that no one really knew about." Absentmindedly, she began picking off the label on the bottle. "I mean, it wouldn't have killed you to have crashed that shit in Cuba or someplace warm, would it?"

His face went pale. _If it weren't for that ice, I probably _would_ be dead…_

She instantly realized his discomfort and that it _would_ have killed him. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I… I shouldn't have said that," she stammered apologetically, grabbing his bicep through his checkered shirt.

As if his heart wasn't already beating faster than a propeller, her touch threatened to send it into overdrive.

"I… I was just trying to make a joke, clearly a poor one, but I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, especially when my emotions are all over the place," she continued, rubbing her thumb up and down his sleeve while her hand remained in place.

"It… It's fine. I'm still coming to terms with this concept of being frozen completely and still being able to wake up."

"Well, anyway… We thought we were making some progress when I got a call that she'd taken a turn for the worse. I raced back here to be with her, only for her to get better. We're leaving her doctor's appointment one day, and I'm met by two SHIELD agents. One takes Aunt Peggy and my car home. I'm shuffled into a black car with the other one, handed a phone, and told that they've found something." She broke the story with a laugh. "I've never made it from New York _anywhere_ that fast. Next thing I know, I'm holding onto someone who is definitely making a snowmobile go faster than the poor thing was meant to go and being shoved down into what was left of that plane. Then there you are, laid out in a sheet of ice, blue lips and all." She stopped the story abruptly, images and emotions she thought long gone reappearing.

_Bess stood ramrod straight, shaking with a combination of the bitter cold and ominous dread. The only thought going through her mind was of her great-aunt and how she was going to break the news that Steve Rogers was dead. He was dead, preserved in ice as if he just died yesterday. She knew deep down that if finding out that he was dead didn't kill her aunt, the sight of him completely unchanged after all this time would…_

Releasing her grip on Steve's arm, she clapped her right hand to her mouth and pushed herself away from the table with her left, slamming the old chair into the outdated hunter green textured wallpapered wall behind it. She dashed over to the kitchen sink, almost tripping over her long jeans. Once she reached the stainless steel sink, she grabbed her hair, retched and threw up the half sandwich and two sips of beer into the garbage disposal side.

Alarmed, Steve shoved his chair back from the table, too. He ran to the sink as well, almost tripping over her chair. "Are you ok?" His left hand clenched at his side while his right hand hovered above her back, unsure of what to do.

She lifted her head out of the sink and released her hair. "I'm fine. Ironically, I did that same thing then, too," she whispered, turning to face him.

He lowered his head and met her gaze quizzically. "I didn't bleed everywhere, did I?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No, there wasn't any blood that I noticed. I… I just… All I could think of in that moment was how I was going to tell her that it was all for nothing, that not only were you dead, you hadn't aged a day. I didn't know what to say." She walked back over to the table and sat down. "They dug you out, set up a tent and moved you. Next thing I know, someone's yelling that you're alive," she said incredulously as he sat back down beside her. "I go in, and sure enough, there you are alive. I was so happy, I burst into tears. I tried to call her, but Fury showed up and smashed my phone with his boot. I wasn't allowed to tell her. She had no idea until she saw you on tv."

"And then she sees me one last time…" he breathed sadly, himself now choking back tears.

Completely unsure of what to do at the sight of this legend failing miserably to keep it in, Bess's instincts took over. She rotated her chair so she faced him, scooted it up so her knees were on either side of his right one, and pulled him in for as big of a hug as her small body could give.

The collision of his chin with her collarbone marked the final blow to the wall keeping his tears in check around her. A strangled sob escaped his throat. Steve's head slid so that his forehead rested against her shoulder as he wrapped his strong arms around her.

As the fingers on her right hand wound themselves in his soft, light hair, she rested her head against his. "She got what she wanted, Steve," she whispered as she felt him crying into her grey cotton shirt. She quickly realized by holding him in their current position, she rendered herself unable to wipe her own mascara-stained tears which now were running off her face and into his hair. "She got to see you again. That's all she needed to go happily. Would you rather her not have gotten a chance to see you?" She felt him shake his head against her shoulder. "I, for one, am glad she got to see you again. It makes it all a little easier to bear."

"You haven't asked me what we talked about," he managed between sobs, unsure of why he hadn't pulled from her oddly comforting hug yet.

"I figured it was personal. If you had wanted to tell me, I knew you'd do it on your own terms. She probably told you not to tell me, anyway. If it was important, you'd have told me already." The sound of the doorbell startled the pair out of the embrace.

"Someone probably should go answer that," he said as he wiped away his tears with the back of his hand.

"You stay here. I'll go." She smoothed down the hair on the back of his head mussed from her fingers before pressing a friendly kiss on the top of his head.

Steve kept his head low, eyes focused on the floor until she exited the kitchen. His face flushed and burning, he couldn't tell how much had to do with his tears and what had to do with the fact she'd kissed him. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

"We came as soon as we could. Oh Bess, I'm so sorry."

Steve knew that voice. Rising from his chair, he came into the entrance way of the house to find Bess hugging none other than Tony Stark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I probably need to address at some point that I rated this story M simply to be safe. I am not 100% sure on where this story will go. I promise there will be some eventual romance, but beyond that… Just erring on the side of caution.

There will be mention of Tony Stark's age in this chapter. I don't know if there is any information on how old he is in the movie-verse, so I'm purely going off RDJ's age for this. I assume they're meant to be roughly similar. Also mentioned will be the relationship between Steve and Tony. (We won't be seeing the last of Tony in this chapter. He will keep popping up from time to time for those Tony fans out there.) It's strained. It's not going to get better immediately, especially in a time of loss like this. Be patient with me.

While this chapter might not be quite as sad as the previous chapter, I can tell you right now that the next chapter (chapter four) will be the saddest of the whole story.

The song for this chapter is "One and Only" by Adele. I swear, that woman can make me cry harder with one note than I did when I saw _Titanic_ (in 3D with my husband last month). I don't own that song, either.

Once again, I own nothing. I'm just playing with the toys in the toy box, and I sadly have to put them back when I'm done. As always, thanks to the wonderful beta, Sale el Sol

Jen

Previously…

_Steve kept his head low, eyes focused on the floor until she exited the kitchen. His face flushed and burning, he couldn't tell how much had to do with his tears and what had to do with the fact she'd kissed him. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. _

"_We came as soon as we could. Oh Bess, I'm so sorry."_

_Steve knew that voice. Rising from his chair, he came into the entrance way of the house to find Bess hugging none other than Tony Stark._

Chapter Three: "One and Only"

_If I've been on your mind, you hang on every word I say_

_Lose yourself in time at the mention of my name_

_Will I ever know how it feels to hold you close_

_And have you tell me whichever road I choose, you'll go  
_

Hearing footsteps coming into the entrance way, Tony continued to hold Bess's copper haired head against his chest. He raised his dark eyes from the arbitrary point he previously held in his gaze to see none other than Steve Rogers coming into the room from the kitchen. "Hon, remember, no crying into the reactor."

"Tony," she sniffled, completely unaware of Steve's presence. "Tony, you're the one holding my head. I think I might have an indentation in my skull."

He loosened his grip on her head, allowing her to move it to the left side of the reactor. "Captain Rogers, fancy you being here."

Not letting go of Tony, Bess looked up into his face. "Aunt Peggy called Fury after she saw y'all on the news. Said the gig was up and he needed to get St…the captain over here."

The fact that she almost called him by his given name didn't escape the brilliant mind of Tony Stark, or incidentally the mind of his girlfriend, Pepper Potts. Pepper stood between Tony and the door, carefully eyeing Steve through her blue eyes. Knowing Tony's relationship with Bess and Peggy, she didn't think that Tony would make a quip about Steve in front of Bess, not at a time like this. Still, just to be safe, she stepped out from behind him and extended her hand. "Captain, I don't think we've been properly introduced."

"No, ma'am, I don't think so," Steve replied, any hint of discomfort at seeing Bess in Tony's embrace being redirected as he shook her hand. "Steve Rogers."

"Pepper Potts. I'm sorry, we left quite suddenly from dinner. Could I get a glass of water?" she asked quickly in an effort to keep Steve and Tony from continuing to glare daggers at each other.

Steve looked to Bess as if to seek assistance.

"Glasses are in the cabinet where I got the plates. There's a water pitcher in the fridge. It's cold and filtered, Pepper," she offered through her sniffles, turning her face back into Tony's black shirt as Pepper followed Steve into the kitchen.

"Queen Bess, you look like you need to sit down before you fall down. That's saying a lot, considering I think you look worse than I do," he quipped with a smile in an effort to stem the tide of tears. "Sofa?"

She nodded furiously as she quickly walked through the kitchen and into the living room beyond followed by Tony.

* * *

"So, Bess and Tony?" Steve asked, pouring what he hoped was water out of what he hoped was the pitcher Bess referred to into a glass for Pepper after seeing the two of them walk through the kitchen.

She sat down at the table, smoothing out her white dress and motioning for Steve to follow. "Tony's father and Peggy looked for you after you went down. They worked together after the war. Peggy was around a lot while Tony was growing up."

Angry tears began to prickle behind Steve's eyes. How was any of this fair? _Tony Stark_ spent more time with Peggy than he did.

She sensed Steve getting upset and quickly continued. "Bess got on at SHIELD about the same time Tony and his Iron Man suit got on their radar. He realized who she was when she showed up at his house in California one day during the Stark Expo searching for anything of Howard's he might have had on you that she didn't already have." She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's not what you think, captain. She's the little sister Tony never had."

"W-why would that matter to me? I-I don't…"

Pepper smiled gently. "Because Tony got to spend time you should have spent with Peggy. If Tony and Bess were together, he'd 'win' again. Men really aren't that complicated." She patted his hand gently. "Besides, _I'm_ with Tony."

* * *

"Lemme guess," Tony began after pouring himself a drink. "Fury brings the ninety-year-old virgin for Peggy on the one hand, and comes with your new assignment on the other." He flopped down on the new leather sofa next to her with a drink for her in his other hand. "Wait a second, when did this leather sofa get here?"

"The old one finally gave out. I convinced her to get a new one." She scrunched her face up in confusion. "The ninety-year-old virgin?"

He shook his head with a grin as he emptied the contents of his glass. "Don't worry about it. I'll explain later. Fury called to say she'd died. He didn't say what type of bullshit duty you were on."

"I think he's scared Aunt Peggy'll haunt him. To use Fury's own words 'Your previous assignment was to find him. Your new assignment is to find him a place in this world'."

"So you're still on 'Capsicle duty,' but now your job is to help him work the television and the microwave?"

Bess elbowed Tony in the ribs. "The job could always be worse. I'm teaching history and pop culture to a willing student. It's like I'm the teacher I thought I wanted to be, without any of the bad parts! If he's got any technical questions about how the processors in the iPhone work, I'll send him to you."

Tony let out a hearty laugh. "I'd give almost anything to see Cap using an iPhone."

"You're on." She grinned, but no sooner had the smile appeared, it disappeared into sobs as she buried her face into his shirt. "What do I do, Tony? Where do I start? How do I tell him about Jack and Vietnam? Aunt Peggy should be the one doing this, not me. I don't know what to do."

He hugged her close. "I don't know what to tell you, sweetheart. I'm not good with crying females, even if it's not my fault they're crying." Rubbing soothing circles on her back, sighed heavily. "Honestly, Queen Bess, I've got no idea. I'll help out as much as I can whenever you need it. Once the tower's repaired, you know there's a place for you."

"Given my current assignment, we may need to upgrade that to a two bedroom apartment. Fury'd kill me if I left Steve alone."

He looked down at her, a slight smile starting to form. "Oh, it's 'Steve' now?"

"Tony, don't even. He's… I don't even think he knows which end's up right now."

He looked toward the kitchen as he heard the distinct sound of Pepper's expensive heels clicking onto the hardwood floor. "Tony, we've got…"

"That thing in the morning," he finished. "I know." He turned his attention back to Bess, squeezing her into a tighter hug. "If you need anything at all, you've got me on speed dial. I'll be here in ten minutes."

"Don't use the suit. You'll scuff up the tile." Using his black shirt sleeve as a Kleenex, she wiped her eyes.

"Fine. I won't use the suit if you don't use me for a human tissue." He stood up and put his glass on the coffee table. Turning back around to face her, he shrugged. "_Singing in the Rain_ or _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ might be a good place to start. He'll get the references. He'd get _Last Crusade, _but he wouldn't appreciate the original James Bond passing the mantle to Han Solo."

She stood up as well to escort Pepper and Tony to the door. Walking back through the kitchen, she stopped when Tony stopped. "Tony?"

Steve was completely caught unawares when he suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a second hug, this time a quick one from none other than Tony Stark. "My condolences, Cap. Good Queen Bess over there's got my number if either of you need anything." He turned back to Bess quickly. "Call me when there's a time for the service, ok?"

She nodded as Pepper said quietly that they'd escort themselves out. Once the door shut, she looked back over at Steve, who was still dumbfounded clearly at the hug. "Are you okay, Steve?"

"Tony Stark just _hugged_ me, and you don't think I know 'which end's up'?" he scoffed. "I know I'm more than a little behind the times at the moment, but…"

"Steve, you're taking that completely out of context." She tried to lead him into the living room to sit down.

"I don't think it matters what context that's in, ma'am. Like I was saying, I know I'm a little behind, but I'm not stupid," Steve spat. He brushed past her to reach his bags still in their place by the door.

"Please listen to me." Bess grabbed the handles of one of the duffel bags he held with an iron grip. "Tony was just being…Tony. I called you Steve in front of him. I know him and where he was about to go with it. He was about to make a comment about _us_, but I nipped it in the bud. He's a good friend, but sometimes he doesn't have the best situational awareness."

"Believe me, _that_ I know." He sat the punching bag back down by the door. "I would like to get my belongings out of your foyer."

"Oh, right. Here, let's get it upstairs." She led him up the carpeted stairs, past Peggy's room, and to a bedroom just off of the bathroom. "There's extra sheets and towels in that big closet across the hall," she said motioning to a dark paneled door with one hand as she flipped on the ceiling light in the bedroom with the other. Entering the room first, she opened the closet door. "My room is just across the hall. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'm a heavy sleeper, so you don't have to worry about making too much noise and waking me up."

"I'll remember that," he said quietly.

Realizing just how awkward this situation had gotten, Bess clapped her hands together and walked back over to the door. "Well, I'm going to go take a shower and let you unpack. It's barely 8:30, and I'd like to show you something once I'm out." When he only responded by staring down at the bed, she gave a nervous thumbs up and exited the room. "Good talk. Go team," she muttered as she shuffled into her bedroom to retrieve some clean pajamas.

Steve remained rooted to his spot, eyes boring holes into the mattress, until he heard some sort of noise coming from the bathroom and the sound of a shower running. He could make out some sort of instruments, but it didn't sound like any music he'd ever heard. Taking his tape out of one of the bags, he made his way out of the bedroom to retrieve his punching bag from downstairs. He stopped for a moment when he heard Bess singing along, smiling when he realized she could carry a tune about as well as he could – almost, but not quite.

"Looking out from underneath, fractured moonlight on the sea, reflections still look the same to me, as before I went under…" Bess stood under the jets of water from the shower head, letting the almost scalding water pour down her body. "And it's peaceful in the deep, cathedral, you cannot breathe, no need to pray, no need to speak, now I am under."

* * *

After working on it for a few minutes, Steve managed to attach the battered punching bag to a tree in the back yard. As he pounded the bag, he couldn't stop thinking about his earlier conversation with Peggy. The more he remembered, the harder he hit the bag.

"_You haven't changed a bit, have you?" Peggy's feeble voice asked with a smile. _

"_They said something about 'suspended animation'. I don't exactly know what that means," he said with furrowed brow as he pulled the old stool back from the vanity and over to her bedside. His hands shook almost too much for him to pick up her hand and kiss it. "It's been a while," Steve whispered, his mouth suddenly going dry._

"_Seventy years almost, Steve," she whispered, refusing to let go of his hand, squeezing it tightly. "You met Bess on the way in?"_

_Remembering the copper-haired girl that refused to shake his hand, he shook his head. "If Bess has hair the color of a new penny…"_

"_That's her." She smiled through the pain coursing through her body. "She's my sister's granddaughter. If I'm right, you'll be seeing a lot more of her in the future. Steve, she's been here for me while I've been sick. She doesn't know how to do anything other than work and take care of me. I don't know what she'll do once I'm gone."_

"_Peggy, don't talk like…"_

"_There's no use ignoring the elephant in the room. Don't ever tell her I'm telling you this, but I need you to make sure she's going to be okay. Can you do that for me?"_

_A tear began to slide down his face as he nodded. "Anything for you."_

"_Good. Because I'm going to need you not to be sad. A frown's not very attractive, Steve. You'll never get anyone to dance with you like that." _

_The lone tear multiplied into countless ones. "Peggy, please…"_

"_No, Steve. I've lived a long life. It's had its ups and downs, yes. Everyone's does. It's your turn to have a life."_

"_Not without you. I can't. I've waited…"_

"_I never stopped loving you, Steve. I finally had to stop looking, but I never stopped loving. I'm dying. You're can't wait for something that will never come." Suddenly her breathing became labored, and she gritted her teeth in pain. Managing to look into his blue eyes, she gave his hand one last squeeze. "You'll find a perfect dance partner, Steve. I did, so I know you can." _

"_Peggy! Peggy, hang on."_

_She shook her head and smiled one last time as her eyes closed, her head sinking back into the pillow gently. _

"_Ma'am, get help please! Something's wrong! Peggy isn't breathing!"_

His thoughts were interrupted by the opening and shutting of the sliding door leading from the living room to the outside. Continuing to punch the bag, he heard Bess softly give her love to her mother tell her goodbye.

"I see you managed to get your stress reliever set up," she said quietly, sliding her cell phone back into the pocket of her black pajama pants with the Guinness logo repeated all over them. "My mom called."

"I heard you as you came out the door." He stopped punching long enough to wipe the sheen of sweat off his forehead and discreetly wipe away the traces of more tears with the tape on his hands.

"They're coming up from Tennessee on the first flight in the morning. She said that Aunt Peggy's attorney called her." She sat down on one of the old chaise lounges on the patio, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. She quickly opened them and pulled out her phone to type a quick text.

"Why would she need an attorney?" he asked as he began to remove the tape from his hands.

"He wrote her will and is now in charge of making sure it's carried out. That's all."

After tucking the tape into the pocket of his khakis, he sat down on the chair next to her.

"She also left some very specific instructions to follow after…you know. She apparently wanted to be buried literally as soon as my family could get to New York, so I hope you have something funeral appropriate."

He nodded. "I'm sure I can come up with something."

"Mom also said that she wanted her will read as soon as the priest said 'amen', so tomorrow's shaping up to be a busy day." She quickly swept all of her long hair over her left shoulder and began to braid it.

"You said you had something to show me?"

"Yeah, although I don't think now's an appropriate time anymore. It was one of those two movies Tony suggested. I think you'd enjoy both of them, but one of them in particular, _Singing in the Rain_." She smiled at a memory that suddenly flashed across her mind. "It's a Gene Kelly movie. I believe you know who that is."

_Thank god! Something I understand! _"I do, actually. I saw _For Me and My Gal_ when it came out, but why were you smiling?"

"At Thanksgiving dinner when I was eight, I wanted Uncle Walt to give me dancing lessons so I could be in a movie with Gene Kelly because I was in love with him. Aunt Peggy just told me that Uncle Walt could give me dancing lessons, but I couldn't be in a Gene Kelly movie anymore. He had just died earlier that year. I was absolutely heartbroken and refused to learn how to dance." Seeing his face fall at something she'd said, she stood up from her chair. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid story.

_So that's what she meant by saying she'd found her perfect dance partner. _"It wasn't stupid at all, Bess. I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

"Well, anyway, the movie's great. It was made after you went down, but it was set in the Twenties. You'd actually get all the references." She smiled. "I was going to put it in and have a lesson in how to work the DVD player, but I think we're both in less than jovial moods. Want to watch it tomorrow night?"

He nodded.

"Good. It's a date then." She smoothed out her old "Tennessee Athletics" tee shirt and stepped back inside. "I think I'm going to head up to bed. If you need anything, I'm right across the hall from you. Goodnight then, Steve."

"Good night, Bess."

Giving him one last sad smile, she slid the door shut and went upstairs. She pulled back the soft white comforter and blankets and crawled in the bed after plugging her phone into the wall. "I don't think I'm going to sleep at all tonight," she resigned, staring at the white wall across from her.

A few minutes later, she heard Steve rustling around in the guest bedroom and then the water running in the bathroom. _Well, now that we're going to a funeral tomorrow, I don't know if tomorrow's the time to start his "new world" lessons. Maybe we can have the microwave and coffee maker lessons, though. Those are practically essential… _


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's**** Note**: *dodges objects hurtling towards head* Please forgive me for the wait! I do have a good excuse, I promise. Since last Friday, work's been really hectic for me. The office moved across town, etc. And (!) I have a beta. Let's welcome Sale el Sol into our little family. We have gone back through chapters one through three to make some minor edits (grammar, mostly). It's not necessary for you to go back and re-read them, but if you want to, go for it. I do have chapter five written completely. It is in Sale el Sol's capable hands now. When I get it back and review the changes, it will be posted.

1,236 hits! Wow. I love you all. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. This is the super sad chapter I promised. Don't worry, chapter five is a lot more light-hearted.

The song for this chapter is "With Whom You Belong" by Fistful of Mercy. (Check 'em out! Dhani Harrison, George's son, is in the band, as are some other really great musicians.) Also, there's mention of a song from an old Ginger Rogers movie, "Got a New Lease on Life". I think it's appropriate. YouTube that.

As always, I own nothing. I'm borrowing someone else's toys. Oh, there is a section of dialogue here lifted directly from Captain America: The First Avenger. You'll know it when you see it. I don't own that, either.

Jen

Chapter Four – "With Whom You Belong"

'_Cause you'll never know the reason_

_Why the sun shines at all_

'_Cause you'll never know the reason_

_Why we each must one day fall_

_You find your way to write your song_

_And come what may_

_I hope you find friends with whom you belong…_

Yawning heavily and popping her jaw, Bess trudged down the steps in her black knee-length dress for the funeral and pink fluffy slippers with eyes half open. She heard the distinct sound of pots and pans clattering to the floor in the kitchen and rolled her eyes. "Steve, what in the hell are you doing?" she muttered, trying to adjust her eyes to the bright light coming in through the kitchen window.

Setting the sauce pan down on the old laminate countertop on the left side of the sink, Steve began to blush. "I… I was just going to make some coffee. I didn't sleep much last night…"

She smiled at her new roommate. In her similar inability to sleep the previous night, she carefully thought long and hard about exactly how she would define "them" to others. Calling him an "assignment" to those who she couldn't tell about her line of work wouldn't work out too well. "Coffee is really simple, actually." She walked over to the other side of the sink and pulled out a large red tub with "FOLGERS" stamped on the side and a box labeled "Number Four Cone Filters". "See this thing with the glass pot at the bottom?" At his nod, she pulled open the top, removed the old filter and grounds, and removed the carafe from the coffee maker. "Step one: take a filter, fold the side and the bottom, and put in the top. How much coffee do you want?"

He pointed to a coffee cup in the sink, the cup she'd drank out of the previous morning but neglected to wash.

"Okay, that's about two cups." She opened the large red tub and pulled out a measuring scoop. "This scoop will hold two cups worth of grounds. I want about two cups, too. So, to make four cups, put two of these scoops in the top in the filter. And for six cups, you need three scoops and so on. Got it?"

Steve nodded. _Could something really be that simple?_

"Now, take this carafe, that's the technical term for this glass thing, over to the sink. We put enough grounds in here for four cups, so fill it up to the four. Open the back, and pour it in. Give it about five minutes, and you will have hot coffee," she explained gently as the brown liquid began to brew with strange noises coming from the machine. She pulled out a large yellow tub of sugar and some powdered creamer. "Add these to your heart's content."

"Wow," Steve whispered. _Even coffee-making has changed!_ "That's so much quicker than the percolator that my mom used to have."

"That's exactly what Aunt Peggy said when dad gave her the first maker like this twenty years ago." Grabbing a red mug for herself and one identical to the one in the sink to Steve out of the cabinet, she began to put her standard amount of sugar and creamer in the bottom. "The funeral's going to be in two hours. We've got about enough time to drink this and for me to finish getting ready. My family and Tony will be meeting us at the cemetery, so I'll drive the two of us." He silently acknowledged as he stared down into the mug as Bess poured the familiar smelling brown liquid in. "How long will it take you to get ready?" she asked, looking down at his dark brown pants and dark brown button-up shirt with the top button and collar buttons undone.

"All I need to do is put my tie and coat on," he mumbled, taking his first sip of coffee, relieved that something at least _tasted _familiar.

"Coat? It's seriously going to hit ninety today, and we're going to mostly be outside. I don't think…"

"Please don't."

"Alright," she conceded softly. "I was just trying to help." Beginning to feel more awake after she'd consumed some of the coffee standing in the middle of the kitchen, she looked at the clock on the stove. "Steve, I'm going to finish drinking this upstairs while I put my makeup on. I know you haven't asked about Aunt Peggy's family or really anything else about her, but I think I owe it to you to tell you a couple of things so you're not blindsided later." With her free hand, she laced her fingers through his gently, much to his surprise. "Bring the rest of that upstairs, and I'll fill you in while I get ready, okay?"

He gently squeezed the hand she'd burrowed into his. "I'll be up in a minute. I'm almost done with this, actually."

She nodded, gently releasing his hand and walked upstairs to her bedroom. She opened up a pink plastic makeup bag in the center of her oak dresser and began to apply powder to her face as a knock came on the door frame.

"You asked me to come up?" Steve questioned, looking around the room, full of strange posters and pictures. References he didn't understand, he was sure.

"Just sit down on the bed. It's quite comfortable, I assure you," she said, kicking off her slippers and curling her toes into the tall navy blue carpet. Out of the corner of her eye, she smiled slyly and watched him warily test the bed before unsteadily settling at the corner of the foot of it.

"So what is it that you wanted to tell me?" he asked, staring down at the white comforter, idly picking at it.

"I don't want you to be surprised when we get to the cemetery. Since she didn't have enough time, I rather feel like I owe it to you to…fill you in." She put down the powder brush and closed the compact, only to open a small pot and pick up an eyeliner brush.

"Fill me in on what?" He looked up at her curiously as she stretched her eyelid and began to paint a thick black line across her left eyelid.

"For starters, she's going to be buried between her husband and her son." Removing the brush from her eyelid, she closed her eyes and sighed before continuing with her preparations.

"Her son?" Steve whispered to no one in particular.

_There's no easy way to do this… _"Margaret Carter married Walter Gorman in January of 1949," she began, never breaking her concentration on her makeup. "She met him in New York before she traveled to her sister's wedding. Her sister, Jane Carter, worked as a nurse in a London hospital during the war. Towards the end in early 1945, she found herself taking care of a…" she paused, remembering how Peggy told her the story, doing her best to channel Vivian Leigh's famous Scarlett O'Hara and intentionally thickening her own southern accent with a smile. "…A cattle farmer's son from Strawberry Plains, Tennessee."

"I'm guessing that farmer's son was your grandfather?" he asked with a laugh at her accent.

Bess nodded. "Said farmer's son thought she was the prettiest thing he'd ever clapped eyes on. _Begged_ her to come back with him to Tennessee. She put him off for a while. He was laid up with a severe leg wound. When the day came to ship him home, he asked one last time. Next thing mema knew, she was wheeling my grandfather down to the registry office. Next minute, she was Mrs. Arthur Williams on a ship home with her new husband to Strawberry Plains," she concluded with a laugh, clearing her throat to talk normally again. "Anyway, Aunt Peggy came over to visit when she heard her sister was settled on a farm and pregnant her first child. She met Walt in the former Idlewild Airport lounge waiting for a flight."

"They demolished it?" Steve asked, surprised.

"No. They renamed it after…" She paused, remembering that he'd have no clue who she was talking about if she said JFK. "Well, I'll explain later. It didn't happen until 1963. You probably wouldn't know who they named it after until we get to the 1960's." She closed the pot of eyeliner and pulled out her tube of mascara. "Anyway, Peggy and Walt got married in 1949. A year later, they had a son, Jackson Gorman. In the post-war boom, Jackson had a life out of a Norman Rockwell painting."

_Another reference that, sadly, I get._ Steve stared down at the floor.

"Jack graduated high school in '68. Wanting to serve his country like both his parents, he enlisted in the Army right after high school, much to the displeasure of his mother. She told me she pleaded with him not to go. She said that she and Walt served to keep innocent people from ovens, where he would be going to a place where he'd be fighting the farmer that doesn't want him there. He said he wanted to keep that farmer safe from communism being forced upon him."

"O-ovens?" he interrupted, clearly missing the last sentence she said. "People were in ovens, as in what one cooks in? Who had _ovens_?"

Finishing her mascara, she placed the tube back into the bag and zipped it up. Bess walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. "Steve, there were some details about what went on in Nazi Germany that we didn't know about until the end…"

"Tell me," he seethed, still not meeting her dark gaze.

"Do you remember the Nuremberg Laws and all of the 'master race' bullshit?" She paused, waiting on recognition from Steve. Once she had his nod, she continued. "Well, after you went under, he turned his work camps into death camps. Once the Allies invaded Europe, they found the camps. By best estimates, he killed six million Jews, gypsies, mentally retarded and other people who didn't fit his 'master race'. Gas chambers, ovens…"

Steve closed his eyes, breathing heavily. _This must be what Banner feels like when he tries not to turn into that…thing. _When he opened his eyes, he realized Bess's head was on his shoulder and her arms were around him.

"He could have gotten a deferment from the draft if he'd gone to college," she continued. "He got caught in the Tet Offensive in Vietnam, which I'll explain right after I explain why they call Idlewild something different now. He was wounded, but survived. The helicopter taking him back to Saigon…" She paused to jump up and grab a q-tip from the box, both to clear the mascara from under her bottom lashes and to wipe away a tear before assuming her former position latched onto Steve. "The helicopter taking him back to Saigon was shot down by the Viet Cong."

He felt his stomach sink. "I take it they're the bad guys?"

Bess nodded. "And between that and your 'incident', Aunt Peggy never got on a plane again. It almost broke her and Walt. By the time Jack died, she was too old to have any more kids. Instead, she poured herself into consulting for SHIELD and treating her sister's son and his children like her own."

Not knowing where the reaction came from, Steve rested his blonde head against her copper colored one, still in waves from the braid she slept in the night before. "She said her life wasn't perfect."

"No, it wasn't. No one's is. Walt died in 2006, just before I graduated high school." She couldn't help but smile through the sniffles as she felt him grimace when he realized how young she was. "Sorry if I just made you feel old."

"No, it's okay. I know I'm old. I'm almost as old as Peggy."

"I didn't ever think about that, honestly. Its mind-blowing. You don't look a day older than I am." She twisted her head to see as much of his face as she could. "Anyway, I had applied to go to Columbia and got accepted. My parents weren't going to let me go. My older sister went out to California for college. By the end of her freshman year, she'd dropped out with a baby on the way. They were scared I'd somehow repeat her mistakes. Aunt Peggy managed to convince my parents that I could stay with her in Jack's old room here. I could live with her. She'd have someone in the house, and I could get in-state tuition after a year."

Steve lifted his head and looked down at the small woman still clinging to him. "So you stayed with her all this time?"

"Six years. The house was as lively as I could make it. I started playing music while I showered just so she'd have something to complain about," she laughed through the tears forming.

"So that's why you were singing in the bathroom last night."

"I didn't think you heard that. I'm sorry. I must've sounded like…sounded like a cat screaming its way out of a paper bag," she whispered.

"I've heard worse, believe me. You've never been in a camp in a war zone with hundreds of drunk GIs singing along to a USO show," he laughed. "So, that sounded almost like Ginger Rogers to me." His smile fell as quickly as it appeared. "Sorry, you wouldn't know who that is."

She quickly released her grip on him and jumped up off the bed, hands on her hips and lips in an exaggerated pout. "I wouldn't?"

He eyed her skeptically. "Ginger Rogers. _You_ know who that is?"

"I used to think that I was losin' my grip. Both my shoulders carried a chip. But now I'm stronger than a battleship. I'm Popeye the Sailor girl. I got a new lease on life, oh. I've got that familiar glow. I'm delighted, excited, at last my mind at peace. I've got a brand new lease on life," she sang quickly and out of tune. "Ginger Rogers, the girl who could do everything Fred Astaire could do, only backwards and in high heels?"

Despite the occasion, a smile burst onto his face completely unbidden. He thought his face would break.

Bess couldn't help but smile. _Good god, for that smile, _I'd_ scan the Atlantic with a Stark for years… Wait, what was that? Note to self, think about that later._ "Just don't ask me to do any kind of dancing. I tried tap-dancing once." She stopped, her smile turning into a grimace of pain and then back into a laugh. "Didn't have tap shoes, so I don't remember why I tried it. I wasn't looking where I was going, kicked a table leg, and broke three toes."

Steve tried valiantly to control his laughter but failed, especially when he watched her cover her face with her hands and giggle uncontrollably. "Three toes?" he managed to ask through his laughter.

"On my left foot." She gripped the dresser to steady herself. As their laughter died down, she remembered why she was wearing a dress and why Steve had on part of his old dress uniform. "Steve, we need to go," she said shakily as she quickly twisted her hair up into a sloppy knot.

"I'll be ready in five," he replied, coming to the same realization.

* * *

Bess jerked her head up and stared around the kitchen and back into her second tumbler of Makers Mark that rested in her left hand. Putting her right palm to her forehead, she began to stare intently at the copy of the deed to the row house and a manila envelope with her full name written in Peggy's later-in-life shaky script that she hadn't found the courage to open yet. Despite the funeral being over and everyone, save herself and Steve, gone, she realized she was still in her dress and too high heels. (Her feet reminded her of the latter.) The day passed in a blur after their laughter died down earlier that morning, leaving only flashes of memories that fought each other for a spot in the forefront of her over-active mind.

_Steve's look of awe when he got into her hard-top Wrangler, realizing that there was something else that hadn't changed…much. The car looked much different from its famous predecessor, but when she told him the car still had manual transmission (available, which she got) with four-wheel drive and could go anywhere, he found himself somewhat at ease._

_Steve's look of shock when Bess unceremoniously dropped her polka dotted canvas purse and black platform shoes into his lap, explaining she couldn't drive in anything over three inch heels because it changed the angle of her feet meeting the pedals. _

_Steve's look of utter fright when the car started and began to shake from Alice Cooper yelling through the speakers that it was "a long, long way to paradise and I'm still on my own". _

_The deafening silence on the twenty minute drive to the cemetery after she'd turned off the radio threatening to drive her crazy._

_The look on her parents' and brother's face when they realized this man in a World War II era dress uniform was _Peggy's Captain_, as he'd been dubbed by the family long ago. _

_The noticeable look of irritation on Steve's face when Tony (and Pepper) pulled up in yet another sports car, introduced himself to Bess's family, and hugged her. _

_The clear resolve in Steve's face _not_ to show any emotion in front of Tony, no matter what, broken by Fury pulling he and Bess away from the funeral party to offer rushed condolences and stuff an envelope into her purse._

_The moment when the emotions were too much to handle and she choked out a quiet sob into her brother's crisp black dress shirt. _

_The continued silence on the ride back to the rowhouse, per Peggy's attorney's instructions, broken when she couldn't stand it anymore and turned Alice Cooper back on for the remainder of the ride. The silent tears finally running down Steve's face did not go unnoticed. _

_Fidgeting with her already ragged fingernails while Dieter the attorney read the will, not caring that her mother was given the jewelry or her father was given Walt's antique Oldsmobile._

_Instantly looking up at mention of her name, a large legal-sized piece of paper and an envelope being thrust into her hand. "And to my grand-niece, Virginia Elizabeth Williams, I leave the house she has called home since 2006 and the remainder of my possessions therein free and clear. The house and all its contents are hers to do with as she pleases. She is free to retain possession of the property and continue to live there, but she is also free to sell the house and dispose of the possessions at her discretion."_

_The embraces and well wishes as her family departed later. _

Exhaling heavily, she picked up the manila envelope and absentmindedly fingered it, still unsure of whether or not to open it. As she held it, she realized there was something more than paper in it, something hard. Her curiosity finally got the better of her, and she ripped open the envelope to dump the contents on the table. A CD with no writing on it and a folded up piece of paper fell out. Unfolding the yellow piece of paper, she began to read.

_My Good Queen Bess,_

_If you're reading this letter, it means that I'm no longer among the living. It also means that my instincts were correct. As I write this, I've just been returned to the house by the SHIELD agent that __didn't__ pick you up. You've found him. They wouldn't have whisked you away like that for anything else, my dear. I feel older than Methuselah, but my mind is still sharp._

_I want to say thank you, Bess. I don't know if I can write exactly what your stay here has meant to me. When I thought I had nothing else left, you moved in and showed me that I did. You may not think that you actually did anything, but I can assure you, your presence here did miracles. The music while showering never really bothered me. It was nice to know that life had come back to the house._

_I can't help but wonder if Jack's college experience would have been anything like yours. He's the reason I was always on you (more so than your own mother) about doing well. I wanted you to succeed where he was never able to. If I was hard on you, I apologize, but seeing you graduate with honors made it worth it. I hope it was worth it to you. _

_You may resent me for my interference with your employment, but you have to understand I did it because I love you. _

_I know I left you the house, but that doesn't mean you have to stay here. In fact, I have no delusions that you will. I happen to know that Tony Stark has offered you a place in that monstrosity of a tower he's constructed with his name plastered over it. Take it__,__ my dear. You've earned something much better than an old house in Queens. You're young with your life ahead of you. Go to Manhattan, meet a nice man, live life. _

_Before you go and live and forget about your old Aunt Peggy, I must ask one favor of you __-__ if you've somehow found Steve Rogers alive, that is. Listen to the contents of this disc. Howard Stark left me the recording before he died. Dieter transferred it to this format so I could leave it for you. You'll understand __why__ I searched for as long as I did. You'll know what I'm asking as well, so I won't write it here. Take care of him, Bess. If your employer has held up the rest of his debt repayment to me, he will have assigned you to do just that anyway. I don't know how long he will be for this world when you find him, but take care of him. The world's changed so much. I will rest easier knowing that he's got you. _

_I can't thank you enough, Bess. I love you so much._

_Aunt Peggy_

Folding the letter back up, she grabbed her drink, phone, and car keys from the spot on the counter where she'd thrown them hours before and walked out the front door. She unlocked her Jeep, crawled into the driver's seat, and turned the key in the ignition to turn the radio on. She quickly ejected the Alice Cooper disc that frightened Steve, tossed it into the passenger seat, and inserted the blank disc from Peggy.

_Come in, this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?_

Bess froze, recognizing Steve's voice through the static. A feeling of dread settled like a bowling ball into the pit of her stomach.

_Captain Rogers, what is your loca…_

_Steve, is that you? Are you alright?_

She'd never heard her great-aunt sound so young, or more relieved.

_Peggy! Schmidt's dead!_

_What about the plane?_

_That's a little tougher to explain._

_Give me your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing site._

_There's not going to be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down._

_I'll… I'll get Howard on the line. He'll know what to do._

_There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast, and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water._

_Please, don't do this. We have time. We can work it out._

The desperation in Peggy's voice was enough to make her down the remaining contents of the glass.

_Right now, I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy…this is my choice. _The radio transmission flickered with static._ Peggy… _

_I'm here._

_I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance._

_All right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club._

_You got it._

_Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?_

_You know, I still don't know how to dance._

_I'll show you how. Just be there._

_We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your…_

The static stopped, but the recording didn't.

_Steve? Steve? Steve?_

Bess descended into hysterical sobs, too much for her carefully chosen waterproof makeup to handle after all the previous tears of the day at the sound of her strong, stubborn, rock of a great-aunt's voice breaking more and more each time she repeated his name. The tears that flowed picked up bits of mascara and stained her face black. _He wasn't a pet project. She loved him._ Fumbling for her phone, she unlocked the screen and managed between gasps for air to dial a number.

"_How are you and Wonder Boy holding up, Bess?"_ Tony's familiar voice asked, intentionally trying not to sound cheerful.

She couldn't respond except to cry harder.

"_Bess? Are you ok?"_

She took the phone away from her ear, causing the screen to light up, and put him on speaker-phone.

"_Hon, say something. You're scaring me."_

"Tony, she left me the house."

"_Well, I figured that much. Are you still going to want that apartment…"_

"She left me Steve, too."

"_No, I believe Fury and his one eye did that."_ He paused. _"That's not enough to make you hysterical. What is it really?"_

"She left me a letter, Tony. Her last request of me." Bess unfolded the letter to read the last paragraph to him in a shaking voice.

Tony scoffed. _"I'll be damned. She _did_ leave you a person." _He paused in realization. _"My dad left her a recording? What recording? She didn't ask you to do anything."_

She skipped back to the beginning of the recording, only to fast-forward to a specific place. "Her reasons," she said, letting up on the button on the stereo, letting the recording play for him.

_I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance._

_All right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club._

_You got it._

_Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?_

_You know, I still don't know how to dance._

_I'll show you how. Just be there._

_We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your…_

_Steve? Steve? Steve?_

Never being a man of much emotion, especially when it came to the man his father "never shut up about", Tony suddenly felt all the air leave his lungs, unable to breathe. _"He hasn't heard this, has he? Where is he? Where are you?"_

She sniffed loudly, not having a tissue to blow her nose in. "I'm in the car outside. I haven't heard a peep from Steve in over an hour. Everyone left, he went out and demolished the punching bag. Went upstairs and showered. Haven't seen him come down. I didn't want to wake him up if he was asleep."

"_But he hasn't heard this?"_

"No."

"_Don't let him." _

"Wasn't going to, Tony," she whispered.

"_So what did Peggy want you to do? Dance with… Oh god, that's exactly what she wanted."_

She didn't respond. Her crying had turned into ragged breaths of an emotion she could only describe as all five stages of grief at once. "She's pulling the strings from her grave!" she shouted, descending once more into hysterical tears. "How can she ask me to do this?" She dropped her head onto the steering wheel, accidentally honking the horn.

"_Take the keys out of the ignition, hot rod, and put 'em in the passenger floorboard. You've probably got a drink in the car."_

Bess quickly did what she was told, knowing with her luck, a cop would show up at that moment. "It's not fair, Tony! She gets her time with him cut short, so she inflicts him on me, personally and professionally. She made her heartache my headache," she said through gritted teeth, continuing her rant.

"_Bess, I understand you're hurting right now and that Steve's presence doesn't exactly help matters, but now's the time to," _he paused, realizing how… un-Tony, for lack of a better description, his next words would sound. _"Now's the time to remember that for any faults and misguided attempts to make things better, she _was_ family and loved you very much…"_

She didn't hear his attempt to calm her down. "Tony, I'm going to let you go now. Thanks for listening, but I've got a lot of work to do," she said in an eerily calm voice.

"_Bess, what are you…"_

"I've got a house to clean out so I can move into that apartment. Two bedrooms, right?" She chuckled as she ended the call, ignoring his attempts to keep her on the line. Switching the CDs in the player, she locked her car and went back inside.

Once inside, she cracked the disc over her knee and threw it away in the kitchen trash. Throwing open the cabinet below the old sink, she pulled out the box of black plastic garbage bags and stormed upstairs, bottle of Makers Mark in hand. Still wearing her dress and heels, she stuffed the letter into her bra and shoved open the door to Peggy's old room. With a huff, she slammed the door shut behind her and locked it before making her way over to the cherry dresser.

The slam of the heavy door shattered Steve's thoughts. Instinctively, he jumped up from his place on the still-made bed in the guest room. He found the doors to Bess's room and the bathroom still open. The only other door that could have slammed that hard was Peggy's. He swallowed hard and padded over towards the door. Putting his ear to the door, he could hear drawers opening, rustling, and then being shut forcibly. "B-Bess? Are you in there?" he whispered nervously. The noise in the room didn't stop.

"Go the fuck away, Steve," Bess called with a mocking sweetness from the room, the language catching Steve off guard. "I'd kill you just as soon as look at you right now." Taking a healthy swig from the waxy neck of the bottle, she dumped another drawer of clothes into the black plastic bag.

"What are you doing in there?" He wiggled the old glass handle in hopes that he could get in, only to find it locked.

"Clearing out some things. The sooner I get that done, the sooner I can sell this place and get the hell out of Queens," she shouted, pulling out the next drawer and emptying its contents into the bag.

He banged on the door. "Bess, let me in. What things are you clearing out? Where are you going?"

"Well, thanks to Fury, where I go, you must follow. I'm going to sell this place, since its mine now, and move our asses to Manhattan."

Realizing she wasn't going to let him in, he began to quietly pull the pins out of the door hinges; thankfully they were on the _outside_ of the door. He dropped the three pins to the floor, pulled the door out of the casing, and stepped into the room. In his mind, all he could see was Peggy dead in the bed in front of him. However, in reality, he saw his "handler", as he termed her in his bout with insomnia the previous night, wobbling on heels that she made her a good six inches taller, taking another large swig of liquid comfort with a piece of paper dangling precariously from the neckline of her dress. "What are you doing?" he cried, looking at the disheveled state of the dresser.

"What are you doing _in here_?" she shouted, clutching the mostly full bag and bottle to her chest.

"I asked you first," he said, his blue eyes boring holes into her brown ones as he walked across the carpet towards her.

"There's so much stuff that has to go before I can sell this place. I have to start sometime," she replied with a loud hiccup.

"You're drunk," Steve accused.

"I have not yet begun to drink, Captain." She threw her right hand up in a mock salute, hitting herself in the head with the bag. "I won drinking contests in college against fraternities. Do you know how hard that is? Do you know how embarrassing that was for the boys I was up against?" Bess narrowed her eyes at him as she awaited an answer.

"I know that no matter how much of this I drink," he said as he pointed at the bottle. "I can't get drunk. I don't care about how much you can handle. Now hand me the bottle."

"No," she said, sounding more like a spoiled two year old defying her parents than a twenty-four year old woman. Her hair began to fall out of the bun and into frizzy strands around her face. "I need as much of this as I can get so I can get this done and not remember how much it hurts." She began to cry as the second glass she'd finished in the car as well as the reality of the situation started to hit her. "Whatever I may owe to her…" She paused, pointing at Peggy and Walt's wedding photo on the dresser. "…She can't do anything to me now. There's a couple of dresses from the sixties I want to save, but other than that, all this stuff is shit people won't wear again." She wiped her eyes simultaneously with her index fingers, put the bottle on the dresser, and plopped down on the old mattress, still holding the bag. "Fury, on the other hand, could literally _end me_ if I keep you here, worshipping at the Church of the Great Margaret Carter instead of getting back into the world."

"What was in that envelope he gave you today?" Steve asked hesitantly, staying as far away from the bed as possible.

"Your ticket back in, Steve," she said with a smile. Rising from the bed, she dropped the bag and cautiously made her way out of the bedroom and into hers. Bess grabbed the envelope off her nightstand and shuffled back into the other room, kicking off her heels as she went.

"I have a ticket? Where am I going?" _This world moves too fast. I have no idea what she's talking about_.

"Not a literal ticket, Steve." She opened the envelope and handed him the contents: three plastic cards he'd never seen before. Fueled by alcohol, she scooted up next to him and wrapped her left arm around his waist, much to his discomfort. She picked up the most brightly colored one, a New York driver's license, and pointed to the birthday in the middle of the card. "Do you know what that is?"

He looked at the card before looking down at her. "It says 'driver's license'. It's my picture and my name, but that's not my birthday. I was born in 1920, not 1982. Were _you_ even born in 1982?"

Bess chuckled. "No. I didn't come along until December 1987. Think about it. If you had a license with your picture on it that said 1920, someone'd think you had a fake id so you could drink. I bartended during college. I've seen some pretty good fakes."

"What are these other ones?"

"A motorcycle license and a credit card. The note he left in the envelope was to use that card to buy you what you need to assimilate."

"Like one of those rectangles you keep carrying around and touching and talking at with the apple on the back?" he questioned, forgetting where he was and that an inebriated woman had draped herself on his person for a moment.

Bess genuinely laughed for the first time in hours. "iPhone. If you want one of those, we can get you one. They're fairly simple to use once you get it set up. We can get you some music to put on it, too."

"Music on that thing?"

She let go of him with a smile, reaching over to get her bottle. "What do you think I plug into the speakers in the bathroom to make the music?"

"Haven't thought about it, honestly." He blushed furiously as his thoughts began to wander to those of her in the shower…

"Come on," she said with a hint of a slur, waving for him to follow. "The booze is catching up with me. I can clean out this later."

Obliging her, he followed her out of the room, but not before glancing in one more time and turning off the light.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five – "Something to Talk About"

_Ipso facto  
Using up your oxygen, you know I'm shallow  
Calling out for extra help  
You've got to let me in or let me out  
0h something to talk about_

Bess slowly opened her eyes, groaning at the sunlight streaming in through her window. "Oh my god. Why is the light so bright?" she shouted to no one in particular. Willing herself to roll over towards her nightstand, her eyes rolled back in her head at the dizzying sensation that clouded her mind. She groped on the top of the nightstand, her hand slapping the wood loudly several times before finding its mark. Snatching her phone from its resting place, she pulled the white comforter and hunter green sheets over her head to block out the light while she checked the time. _Oh god, its noon. Well, the house is still standing, so I don't think Steve tried to cook anything._ At the thought of food, her stomach lurched angrily, remembering the untold amount of liquor consumed the previous evening. _Gatorade. Gatorade. I need Gatorade_. Steeling herself to overcome the dizziness, she pushed herself out of bed, making sure the white tee shirt with a stretched out neck that exposed her left shoulder and short blue cotton shorts she didn't remember putting on the night before were in place before heading downstairs.

Downstairs, Steve smiled as he looked out the front door admiring his black vintage motorcycle parked between Bess's Jeep and the curb, undoubtedly returned by Fury, as it gleamed in the late morning sun. Even though there were so many things he didn't understand about his new world, one thing was…right. He turned around quickly upon hearing her come down the stairs. He couldn't help but stare at her wardrobe that left little to the imagination, fighting the blush that tried to creep up on his face. He'd seen _pinups_ with more of their legs covered. "Good morning," he greeted, removing his hands from the pockets of his brown pinstriped pants and folding his them over his tan checkered shirt.

Not quite ready to talk, she muttered something that sounded like "good afternoon" and gave him a nod of acknowledgement before shuffling into the kitchen. She made straight for the fridge, removed the water pitcher, and proceeded to mix a healthy sized glass of Gatorade. _Something else I need to teach Wonder Boy about, especially given the amount of time he spends taking out seventy years worth of frustration on that poor punching bag. I wonder if he'll ever learn everything?_ Slowly sipping on the bright yellow liquid, she smiled weakly as Steve came into the kitchen. "Last thing I can recall clearly from last night was promising to get you an iPhone. I didn't do anything…untoward, did I?" she whispered. She feared if she talked too loud, she wouldn't be able to be upright.

"Untoward?" he asked with a raised eyebrow before leaning up against the doorframe.

"In college, I always had my best friend Kelsey to stop me from doing anything stupid once I got past three drinks. I swear, that girl could drink me under the table and never act drunk." She paused and cleared her throat. "I generally turn into a very flirty drunk, if you get my drift." Bess laughed softly.

He grinned, realizing she was turning pink around the cheeks. "You didn't do anything 'untoward', Bess. You marched me downstairs and insisted that I watch _Singing in the Rain_ and showed me how to work the tv. You fell asleep about thirty minutes into the movie in a very precarious position after you sang along to…that song they did on the empty stage?" he asked, snapping his fingers in an effort to remember the name of the song. He'd read it in the box the disc came in the night before.

"'You Were Meant for Me'?" She winced. _Really? Of all the songs in that damn movie, I sing the declaration of love song to the lovesick puppy? Fuck me._

"I guess that's it. When it was over, I woke you up, and you went to bed."

_Thank god for small mercies. At least I didn't try to force myself on him, even if he is seriously a modern-day Adonis. Stop. Stop it. _"Well, as soon as I recover enough to get out in the sunlight, we will be having your first 'welcome to 2012' lesson," she said as she emptied the rest of the yellow liquid. "How comfortable do you feel driving?"

"My motorcycle?" he asked, chiseled face full of hope that he'd finally get to take it out for a long spin.

"My car," Bess began, smiling sadly as his face fell. "I can't handle a motorcycle today. Plus, with all the stuff we're going to be getting while we're out, we couldn't get it all home on a bike."

"I haven't driven a car since I've been…" he looked at the floor, clearly embarrassed. "Since I've been back."

Tossing the plastic cup into the sink, she made her way over to him, careful to not breathe too much on him. _Guh, I must smell like stale whiskey and mothballs from those drawers. _Bess put a hand on his forearm, still crossed over his chest. "Hey, if you're not comfortable with it, we can put off the driving lesson. I'll be right as rain as soon as I've washed off the 'eau de stale whiskey' I seem to be wearing this morning," she reassured with a laugh. Upon realizing Steve didn't even crack a smile, she removed her hand from his arm and playfully swatted him. "Smile. You woke up this morning. The world hasn't ended. And don't think I didn't see you ogling that bike, Captain."

Steve didn't smile. He glared down at the petite girl in front of him. "If you don't feel up to doing…"

"What part of 'I'll be fine after I shower' didn't make sense, Steve?" She looked up at him with a look that demanded an answer.

"I just didn't want to try to get you out if you weren't feeling up to it. I mean, technology can wait, right?"

"In your case, it can't. Besides, I've imbibed _way_ more than that and survived. Albeit, it was a tough road to recovery after near alcohol poisoning," she reminisced. "I can find some music more agreeable to you than Alice Cooper this time."

"A-Alice Cooper? Is that who we were listening to yesterday?" At her nod, his face contorted into the most confused face she'd ever seen on a human being. "But it was a man singing. I didn't hear a woman."

_Don't laugh at the poor man. Don't laugh at the poor man. Don't… _All efforts to prevent herself from laughing uncontrollably failed as she suddenly descended into hysterical laughter. As suddenly as the laughter started, she stopped and pinched her nose to ward off the headache she was sure to get from the loud noise. "When we get to the 1970s, I'll show you a concert film called _Welcome to My Nightmare_. By then, you'll either love it or want to punch me in the head."

"If it's about a nightmare, I don't think I…"

"Steve, there's a reason it's called 'shock rock'. We have to build up to it. Now, I am going to go shower and change. Make sure you have that credit card and the driver's license with you, and I'll be back in ten minutes."

He received a "thumbs up" and a pat on the shoulder, a gesture more suited to Tony Stark than the petite redhead. After he heard the shower water start, he sat down at the kitchen table and dropped his head to the surface with a thud. _I think I feel a headache coming on_. He'd already lost ten dollars to Fury thinking nothing would surprise him. While Bess slept the morning away, he laid in bed on top of the covers after he'd finished his morning routine trying to find a way to describe this feeling of…wishing the world would just slow down while he caught up. It was if he stood in the middle of a room full of people, screaming for help only to have everyone ignore him.

He knew deep down that Bess wasn't trying to ignore him. She hadn't given him any real information other than the Readers' Digest version of Peggy's life and mention Hitler's ovens. _What about Stalin? What about Hirohito? _He decided while staring at the ceiling earlier that morning he'd be content to wait on some of that information for a little bit longer. If she didn't tell him… Well, he'd find out. Despite this thing called the Internet that he didn't understand, there still had to be a library around here, right?

The shower water kicked off, but clearly her music didn't. The song that played while she was in the shower was distorted by the water and the walls, but this one he could hear just fine. _I definitely feel that headache coming on. _Despite not knowing anything about the music people listened to in this new world, _this song_ he recognized. Stark's "entrance music" from Stuttgart blared from the bathroom, causing Steve to roll his eyes. Clearly, she knew this song too.

_I'm like evil, I get under your skin _

_Just like a bomb that's ready to blow _

_'Cause I'm illegal, I got everything _

_That all you women might need to know _

_I'm gonna take you down - yeah, down, down, down _

_So don't you fool around_

_I'm gonna put in a bullet, pull the trigger _

_Shoot to thrill, play to kill _

_Too many women with too many pills_

The song abruptly clicked off, not soon enough for Steve's taste, and Bess emerged from the bathroom and begin to make her way down the stairs. He couldn't help but appreciate her particular outfit. He'd remembered seeing something like the blue dress with tiny white polka dots all over with pockets in the front and a halter top on the cover of a magazine before he crashed Schmidt's plane. Her neckline may have been a tad lower than the one from '42, but in retrospect, he could probably chalk that up to changing styles.

Not wanting to keep anyone waiting, Bess opted for powder foundation and a hint of mascara instead of what she dubbed her "full package". "Ready to get some twenty-first century equipment, Captain?" she asked, pulling her keys and phone from her canvas purse before handing it to Steve as she'd done the day before.

"Well, I'd hate for you to have gotten nice and dressed up for nothing," he said quietly as he exited the house ahead of her so she could lock the door.

"Why, Steve Rogers," she began with a sly grin, looping her arm through his before he could stop her. "Do mine ears deceive me, or was that a compliment?"

He pulled his sunglasses out of his pants pocket and put them on with a trembling hand. "Yes?" he questioned meekly.

She dropped his arm, shaking her head with a smile as she jumped into the driver's seat. She slid her sunglasses down from their place atop her copper head in front of the knot holding the wet hair up from her neck. "So, music that Steve can appreciate…" she mused aloud after popping out the Alice Cooper album and putting it back in the case in her armrest. Plugging a cord into the headphone jack of her phone and the car charger into the bottom, she began to touch the screen rapidly before punching a button on the radio and setting the phone down as big band music began to pour from the stereo.

Steve beamed. "I know this one!" he shouted as she rolled down the windows. "She gets too hungry, for dinner at eight," he sang along, not recognizing the singer off hand, but deciding it didn't matter.

"She loves the theater, but doesn't come late. She'd never bother, with people she'd hate. That's why the lady is a tramp," she continued the song as she pulled away from the curb and began to drive away.

By the time she stopped the car at Best Buy, they'd made their way through most of Tony Bennett's _Duets II_. The goofy smile that appeared when he recognized "The Lady Is a Tramp" hadn't left Steve's face the entire ride. Bess could only hope that he'd still be smiling after they left. "Alright, are you ready to go into the land of microprocessors?" she asked as she put her white flats on and took her purse from his lap.

"The land of what?" Steve quickly exited the car and without thinking, offered her his arm.

She slung her bag over her head and took the offered arm, her fingers lightly squeezing the crook of his elbow in reassurance. "Stark can tell you _how it works_, but I can at least tell you _what it is_. The microprocessor replaced the transistor, enabling computers to shrink from the ones that filled rooms that you're used to seeing to the one I'm going to be getting for you today – one that you can hold in your lap and only weighs around two or three pounds. They also allow the phone you seem so keen on to work."

The automatic door opened and both moved to remove their sunglasses. Bess found herself being jerked back when she tried to move forward without Steve as her arm was still linked in his.

His eyes widened in a look of wonder as he took in the sight of the interior of the huge building. He could see washers and dryers that looked nothing like anything he'd ever seen to televisions larger than the one in the house.

She rubbed her thumb on the inside of his bicep to get his attention. "Just follow me, pretend like you know what we're doing, and let me do all the talking. We'll get out of here just fine. Plus, I know exactly what we need to get."

He nodded and let her pull him along, only partially hearing her as his blue eyes fell upon a display full of Duracell batteries. He decided that listening to her advice was probably best, so when she let go of his arm to flag down someone in a blue shirt to get a particular box out of a locked case, he kept right on her heels. While they waited for the associate to get the key, he shifted his gaze to her and then to the screen of one of the computers, completely unsure of what to say about the folding rectangle with a typewriter keyboard and a picture of rolling green hills in the background. Before he could process what happened, he found himself carrying the brown cardboard box with a plastic handle and a smaller box labeled "Microsoft Office 2010" over to a bench under a sign that read "Mobile". Again, he could do nothing but watch his odd companion point to the box with the apple on the back like hers and listen to her speak about things like "share plan" and "text messages" and "email". Panic began to set in. _What if I can't learn how to use this? What if I'm too far out of my own…_

His thoughts got rudely interrupted by Bess's elbow and soft southern accent asking him for the black credit card. Following the directions and swiping it and signing his name on something that looked like the screen he had stared at earlier, he hurried after Bess out of the store. "I have jumped a fifty foot gap a hundred feet in the air and wasn't half as scared as I was in there." He opened the car door and put the computer box and the other tiny one in the back seat. His eyes shifted to her doing something with his phone.

"You did well. No one asked you if you were lost," she replied, slipping the new phone into a thick case. "Ok, here's the phone. Push the button on top to turn the screen off and on, then slide where it says to in order to unlock the screen."

He took the phone from her hand, concerned because it felt so much thicker than hers. "This case is huge."

"OtterBox. You can throw that shit against a wall, and the case won't break. Figured you'll drop it. God knows I do."

Apprehensively, he followed her directions and brought up the main screen. "Now what?"

"Well, we can finish setting it up when we get back, but for now, you've got my number and Tony's programmed in there." She grinned from ear to ear, remembering Tony's reaction to Steve using an iPhone. "Hey Steve, wanna win something from Tony?"

"Win something?"

"Yeah. When he stopped by the night before last, he said he'd give almost anything to see you using that thing."

"What do we get?" Steve asked, eager to beat the younger Stark's expectations.

"I don't know. I was going to try to get JARVIS in the apartment we'll be moving into in his tower. It would be so great, especially if you need help with something when I'm not there."

Steve remembered mention being made at some point of this thing called JARVIS, but didn't quite know what it was. "What do I have to do?" he asked, unlocking the screen again.

Bess quickly showed him which buttons to push in order to call Tony and took a quick picture of Steve using the device for proof before starting the car and driving away.

"_Stark,"_ the voice on the other end of the phone answered gruffly.

"Tony? Tony, it's Steve," he shouted, unsure of how loud he needed to talk before Bess motioned for him to talk a little softer.

"_Do you need something? I can't imagine what you'd need that Bess can't…"_

"Well, she wanted me to call you, actually. We just left… What was the name of that place we just left?"

She grinned. "Best Buy, Steve."

"Yeah, that's it. Best Buy. I got a phone like hers."

"_An iPhone? Oh god, Steve, you've joined the evil empire!"_

"I heard that, Tony," Bess called, merging onto the highway. "Steve, tell Tony to check his texts, and that he owes me JARVIS in the new apartment."

"_I heard her. What can be in…"_ Tony paused, scrolling around the phone. _"Shit. You win. He's using an iPhone. Dammit."_

"Ok, well I guess that's it."

"_Goodbye, old man," _Tony jabbed.

"Bess, how do I hang…" The line went dead, eliminating the need to hang up. "Never mind, I think it did it for me."

Shifting into fifth gear, she took her small hand off the shifter and put it on his shoulder. "You'll get there, trust me. I'm here to help, ok?"

Steve nodded. "I know. It's just so…"

"Daunting? I know. My own father got one of those phones, and it took him a good thirty minutes to figure out how to call someone. You're already better than he is and technically older," she said with a laugh.

* * *

Sensing that something was gnawing at him, Bess decided to forgo introducing Steve to the modern shopping mall for the time being. She decided instead to just stop at the grocery store and grab some simple things that she _knew_ he would have to like while he waited in the car. _You can't go wrong with bacon, hamburger, potatoes, or chicken. If he doesn't like any of that, he can just go and fend… _She rolled her eyes as she stood in the checkout line behind the green plastic buggy. _Who am I kidding? If he doesn't like any of it, I'll go get something he does like_.

The unlocking of the car doors made him jump. He'd been trying his hand at a something called "Angry Birds" that Bess walked him through how to get on his new…phone. He had to continually remind himself that this…rectangle was actually a telephone.

"So how far have you gotten?" she asked cheerfully from the back of the car while hooking the shopping bags onto the grocery hooks.

"I'm on the third one," he said, pushing the button to turn the screen dark as he watched her walk around to the driver's door.

"That's not bad for a first attempt. You'll have it beaten completely within a week. It's very addictive," she encouraged, seeing Steve shove the phone into his front pants pocket and start to stare out the open window. _Ok girl, it's show time. _"So Steve," she began slowly. "What would you like for dinner?" She backed out of the parking place and began to drive away.

"I'll have whatever you're having." He sighed as he continued to stare at the passing scenery.

_Something's definitely wrong._ "What if I don't know what I want?"

"Then whatever you decide on is fine with me."

_Lord give me strength._ "I've got chicken or hamburger for the main dish. We can either grill the hamburgers or I can teach you how to make fried chicken the way mom and the grandmother who _wasn't_ from England did. Either one is fine with me." She briefly took her eyes off the road to look across the car at him when he didn't give an answer. "Steve?" When he still didn't respond, she lightly touched his forearm. "Something's wrong. Tell me what it is, and I'll do all I can to fix it."

He shrugged and looked at her with a sad smile. "It's nothing. Chicken's fine."

"Bullshit it's 'nothing'. You look like you want to cry, Steve," she pleaded, causing him to tense up under her continued touch. "What was it I said about me being here to help?"

He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "All these gadgets are great, Bess. You say I need them to function now. I don't understand _why_ I need them to function, but I accept it. I woke up, got bits and pieces of information, got sent to hunt down little green men, and then find myself on your doorstep. You give me bits about Peggy and mention ovens. I…" he paused, both to catch his breath and to try to find the right word.

"You need to know," she whispered as he nodded in agreement. "You've been thrust into a world where nothing makes sense and told you have to adapt, but you don't know how this world transformed from the one you left into this one." She held up a finger. "Hold that thought," she commanded, deftly parallel parking the car in front of the row house. Once she applied the parking brake, she resumed. "I'll start filling you in as soon as we get this stuff inside. We can worry about the computer and the phone later. How's that sound?"

He scooped up the computer boxes before he got out of the car with a smile. "I think that sounds just fine."

After they brought all the bags inside, Steve left the computer boxes in the living room and returned to the kitchen. "Do you need any help?" he asked. He stared oddly at Bess, who by this time was shoulder deep in the refrigerator somewhere between putting the groceries away and getting out what she needed for dinner.

"Can you learn two things at once?" She grabbed several bowls out of the cabinet, an iron skillet, milk, eggs, flour, and various spices (only some of which he recognized).

"I guess," he replied hesitantly, unsure of exactly what he was supposed to do at this juncture. He watched her open a Mason jar of green beans and pour the contents into another pan on the stove.

She cracked two eggs into one of the glass bowls before pouring milk in. "You went down in October of 1942. What was the last thing you remember hearing?" she asked as she measured out an ample amount of flour and some of the various spices into a plastic bowl standing beside its lid.

"The second battle at El Alamein starting."

Bess pulled the chicken breasts out of the packaging, putting one into the milk and egg mixture as she contemplated where to begin spouting off facts. "Ok, so for the rest of 1942… Where to start?" She removed the first breast from the bowl and plopped it into the bowl of flour. "Put the lid on it and shake it to coat the chicken. Use the tongs, take it out, and put it on that plate next to you," she instructed.

Steve apprehensively put the lid onto the bowl and began to shake, realizing he hadn't put it on securely when he had flour on the front of his shirt. "I think I did something wrong," he said quietly, smiling through the blush that threatened to color his face.

She laughed, helping him fasten the lid securely. "So 1942," she began, handing him the next piece of chicken to coat in flour. "Rommel retreated in the dead of night. American and British troops landed in North Africa for Operation Torch. The Soviets surrounded Hitler's Sixth Army in Stalingrad. We started rationing gas and we took the first step to building the atom bomb shortly before Christmas."

He put the next piece of chicken onto the plate, eagerly listening and continuing to flour the next pieces of chicken she handed him.

"Onto 1943. We drove the Japanese off Guadalcanal, dedicated the Pentagon, officially ended the siege on Stalingrad, put Ike in charge of the Allied armies in Europe, invaded and captured Sicily… Do you need play by play, or just want me to skip to when it starts getting near the end?" After they'd prepared several chicken breasts, she skirted around him to the stove. She poured oil into the iron skillet and turned on the burner.

He leaned over to watch the oil begin to bubble. "I can get the 'play by play' another time, I guess."

"Not that I mind telling you," she started, putting the first two breasts into the skillet. "It's obviously just a long story. Besides, the Second World War wasn't exactly my specialty."

Steve watched the coating on the chicken begin to change color. "Then what was?"

Bess laughed, tossing her hair up into a sloppy knot as little strands came loose. "The Hundred Years' War in Europe. 1337 to 1453."

"That's a little before my time, ma'am," he said with a laugh. Looking over at her, he felt a pang of guilt and regret. The way she stood by the stove with her hair up off her neck in a dress of that style, she reminded him of the way his mother looked as she told stories while she cooked. She didn't have the old red apron, though. He couldn't help but wonder if Peggy would have looked the same as he helped _her_ cook for the two of them. _For our family?_

"Call me 'ma'am' again, and I'll tell you the _whole _story of _that_ war," she quipped, bringing him back into the moment. "You'll be there for several days." She turned the chicken over in the pan, revealing the brown crust forming on the side now facing up. "That wasn't the only thing I studied. Besides, between my grandparents, Aunt Peggy, and Uncle Walt, I had no shortage of history teachers."

He bristled at the mention of Peggy.

"Ok, so highlights. June 6, 1944. D-Day, Operation Overlord. Allies landed at Normandy. The Germans thought we were going to land at Calais, which would have been the closest landing site to England." She paused her story to take the first pieces of chicken out of the skillet before dropping the next two in. Deciding a visual aid would better serve the cause, she dumped some flour from the plastic bowl onto the counter and began to draw a very crude map of western continental Europe in the flour.

"What's that supposed to be, some kind of one-legged animal?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes and continued to draw in the flour. "Unlike someone in this room, I studied history and political science, not art."

"How did…"

"Peggy," she interjected quickly. "Now, Operation Overlord."

Steve suddenly found himself captivated by the crude map, listening intently as she told him of paratroopers stuck in trees behind enemy lines separated from their unit and the invasion force managing to make their way across France and into Germany over the next months. She promised to show him something called _Band of Brothers _and something else called _Saving Private Ryan_. He didn't know exactly what that meant but could only assume that they had relevance to the topic at hand. She only stopped talking to turn the chicken over, resuming her story by quickly covering the lines she'd just drawn with fresh flour and beginning to talk of something called the Battle of the Bulge.

As she pulled the last of the chicken out of the skillet and turned her attention to the rest of the meal, she began to talk of the Allies entering Germany, the race to Berlin to beat the Soviets, Hitler's suicide, and the death of Roosevelt. "The detonation of the bombs in Japan and the aforementioned ovens need to wait until _after_ dinner," she said solemnly, plating up the chicken, green beans, and rolls from the store. Pulling two sodas out of the fridge, she handed a plate and a soda to Steve before taking one of each for herself and sitting down at the table. "Final German surrender was in May, but the Japanese surrender wasn't until September of 1945."

The odd pair began to eat in relative silence until he tried the chicken. "I thought you said you couldn't cook!"

Bess raised an eyebrow. "I never said that. I think I said I use the microwave a lot. I do, but that's mostly out of laziness. Besides, you forget who you're talking to. I think its imprinted in women born in the South's DNA how to fry chicken," she mused. "I can't cook a lot, but what I do cook tastes good."

Steve put down the piece of chicken. "DNA?"

_Shit. They didn't fully discover that until the 1950's. _"Deoxyribonucleic acid. I've only got a basic understanding of it, you know, something they'd teach in a high school science class. DNA is what makes your hair blonde, but makes mine red." She paused, searching for the most basic explanation. "It's your genetic code passed down from your parents. You get half from each parent. There are some genetic diseases…" Sensing she was beginning to lose him, she decided to make it quick. "It makes you…you, physically at least. It's the 'nature' in the 'nature versus nurture' argument." She breathed a sigh of relief, as this explanation seemed to find purchase in his understanding.

"I didn't learn about it."

"The double-helix structure wasn't correctly identified until 1953, but they knew it played a role in heredity the year before," she replied, covering her mouth to prevent the rest of the roll from falling out.

He sat his fork down and gave her an astonished look. "How on earth do you know all of this? Following the war, especially given your family, I understand a little more. I'm sure if I hadn't crashed, I'd remember the dates, too. But this NDA stuff and those… microprocessors too? You said you didn't study…"

She jumped up from the table and ran into the living room, returning with a thick paperback book. "If I'd read this book years ago in high school, I don't think chemistry or physics would have been that hard for me. It's basically 'high school science made relevant'. It can explain a lot of things that I can't."

"Are you giving me homework, teach?" he mocked, grinning as he read the title: A Short History of Nearly Everything.

Bess chuckled, dropping her gaze to the table. "I guess I am. However, unlike a past _teach_, I'm going to tell you to just read when you feel like it. I usually read for a bit before bed. Calms the mind. This book is fascinating, though. Most of these discoveries happened long before my parents even thought about having me, but it made what I learned and stressed out over in all those monotonous high school and college classes mean something."

"So it's a book about the journey, not necessarily the destination," Steve added.

She tossed her head back and forth a couple of times, contemplating his words before she spoke again. "I guess you could say that. The destination's always important, but especially in terms of discovery, it doesn't mean anything without the story of the journey." She smiled as a thought came to her "In the much-overused words of a band that I'll let you listen to later that I'm sure you will have an extreme dislike for, god knows I don't like them very much, 'what a long, strange trip it's been'."

"Why make me listen to them if you're sure I won't like them?" he asked, stuffing the last bite on his plate into his mouth.

"Because they were influential to bands that came after them. They took bands that came before them and made a new sound. Don't ask questions. Every history of rock class has them featured." She rolled her eyes at the memory of the last history of rock class she'd taken, cringing at the lecture where the "professor" made the woefully inaccurate statement after playing The Who's "My Generation" for the class: "Yeah, they had that song, and then had a couple of concept albums in the Seventies. That's about it." That was the day Bess almost killed her teacher.

"Isn't _geology_ the class where you study rocks?"

They had a long way to go.

* * *

**Author's Note:**As always, I own nothing. I just like to borrow other people's toys.

I'm pegging when Steve went into the ice as October 1942. I do know a good deal about World War II. I read a lot and had a history nut father. However, I did have to consult Wikipedia for some things. For example, I couldn't remember offhand whether the Second Battle of El Alamein was before Operation Torch or after.

Song? The song is "Something to Talk About" by Badly Drawn Boy. If you listen to the song, you may recognize it from the 2002 film _About a Boy_, based on the Nick Hornby book by the same name. Great film, amazing book (Hornby's my favorite author), and great band.

If anyone caught the _Titanic_ reference… Heh. You get a cookie.

A thousand thanks to my beta, Sale el Sol.

garnet86, I love you.

www dot modcloth dot com / shop / dresses / blueberry-buckle-dress (Bess's dress, if you're interested. Just remove the spaces and replace "dot" with a period).


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note and other things ****are at the end. On with the chapter!**

Chapter Six – "Department of Youth"

_We're in trouble all the time, you read about us all in the papers  
We walk around and bump into walls, a blind delegation yeah  
And we ain't afraid of high power, we're bullet proof  
And we've never heard of Eisenhower, missile power, justice, or truth  
We're the department of youth, your new department of youth_

Steve lay on his left side wrapped up in the teal and white striped sheets on the double bed in "his" room staring straight at the white wall. He still couldn't bring himself to call this room his without the mental quotation marks. It was too strange. Maybe once they moved into the apartment Bess mentioned in Stark Tower, he'd be able to call that room his. Sleep eluded him yet again as his mind steadfastly refused to turn off.

A week had passed since his first foray into the twenty-first century retail world, yet it seemed more like a day. He found himself presently, dare he admit it even to himself, enjoying Bess's almost constant company. In thinking about it, he decided he could safely say that he could admit it. Her constant presence and chatter made him feel…wanted? _Is that the right word? Wanted? She seems to ignore the fact that I'm still not able to ever do the right thing around women and just keeps talking. _

He couldn't get that night after they went to get him a phone and a computer out of his mind. Something changed between them that night. He wasn't going to rush across the hall and ask her to be his girl over it or anything, but something in the dynamic of the relationship changed. They were _friends_.

After they'd finished that _delicious_ fried chicken that he wanted to ask her to make again, once he'd plucked up the courage of course, she began telling him more about the end of the war and the post-war world while they loaded the dishwasher and washed the skillet by hand. _Ike, president? _

Dishes done, they transitioned into the living room where she put in the _Saving Private Ryan _film she mentioned earlier. As she walked back over to the sofa, she warned him that movie guts had significantly improved since the Forties, so much so that he shouldn't be surprised if she covered her eyes at various points. As the obligatory anti-piracy warnings scrolled across the screen, he made a mental note to ask her why anyone cared if people dressed up like Blackbeard while he popped up the footrest. Pulling an old crocheted blanket off the back of the leather sofa, she wrapped it tightly around her small body before hastily offering to share. He'd politely declined, of course.

As the movie started, he couldn't help but wonder who cried over what his grave like the older man in the opening sequence of the movie. The tone of the film quickly changed, transitioning from the emotional scene at the cemetery to what looked almost like actual footage of the landings. Bess was quick to assure him that what he saw was all Hollywood cinematic magic. A thought began to gnaw at the back of his mind – would he have been one of those sent to run up the beaches? Could his shield have protected him? What could he have done?

Steve felt a sudden wave of nausea upon seeing the soldier missing half an arm wandering in shock on the sand looking for the rest of his appendage. He'd seen action. He'd seen wounded, but he had been spared _that_. Thankfully, she reached over and took his hand, apologizing for her poor choice of after-dinner entertainment as she stopped the film. He'd never forget the next exchange, not even if he tried every day for the rest of his life.

"Steve, I'm good at reading people," she whispered as she stroked the back of his hand, an action that he'd since learned not to shy away from. She shifted her gaze from his hand to his blue eyes. "I know what you're thinking. Stop it. Stop it right now. Yes, you might have been there if things worked out differently. Super soldier or not, I don't think you could have helped much in something on that scale. You would have done what you've always done – tried to save everyone without caring what happens to you."

"You don't know that," he replied with a heavy sigh, looking away from her to the black television screen.

She shifted closer to him. The hand that was entwined with hers found itself now on her knee, causing him to clear his throat. "I do know that. It's not in your nature to do otherwise. Peggy and I watched you do it on tv."

He began to gnaw at the corner of his upper lip before looking at her again. "Thanks, Bess."

She cocked her head to the side and smiled. "For what?"

Before his head could realize what the rest of him was doing, he flipped his hand over so their palms touched and laced his fingers between hers, giving her hand an appreciative squeeze. "Sometimes even Captain America needs a vote of confidence." Finally, his head realized what happened and started sending panic signals to every part of his body. _You just initiated contact with a girl!_

Bess laughed. She hadn't let go of his hand. Instead, she decided to see how long it would take Steve to break the contact. "You mean, Captain America needs his ego stroked every once in a while."

He backed away and shot her an offended look as he pulled his hand out of hers, clutching it to his opposite shoulder. "That's not what I meant! Sometimes it's nice to have your fears put to rest…"

"I was joking, Steve. I'm sorry." She reached up to recapture his hand and bring it back down to her level, brushing his collarbone ever so slightly.

His heart began to race at the contact, refusing to slow down as she brought his hand back to its exact previous location. He could feel the adrenaline running through him. "I think you can turn the movie back on now," he whispered, suddenly wishing he had a glass of water.

"Are you sure? We can put something else in, you know. I can turn you loose on the DVD tower and have you find something that sounds good."

He nodded as she pushed the buttons on the remote to turn the screen back on and resume the movie. "I'll be fine as long as you don't go anywhere." He instantly regretted his words. _I said that out loud! That wasn't meant to be said out loud!_

She dropped the remote onto the dark leather, grinning like an idiot. "Is that your way of asking a girl to sit next to you, soldier?"

Steve turned pink from the tips of his ears to his chin. "I… I…" He found himself at a complete loss for words. "Oh gosh." He quickly began to stare at the carpet before feeling the couch dip and move, presumably as she moved away from him. When he felt something flush against his thigh, he looked up. She hadn't moved away. She'd done the opposite!

"It's fine," she said with a chuckle, propping her feet up next to his on the footrest before spreading the blanket over her legs. "I really don't mind."

_Steve, what have you gotten yourself into? Holding your hand while you watch this movie can hardly be considered helping you back into the world. … Or can it?_

Not very long after she pushed play, the camera shifted to show a soldier with his intestines laying _outside_ his body. She squeaked and turned her head, mashing her nose into the space between Steve's clavicle and shoulder. _My god, he smells wonderful. Old Spice. It's like that ad a few years ago said, "If your grandfather hadn't worn it, you wouldn't be here." Let's not forget to make a note of how firm this muscle is either…_

_You could be doing _much_ worse, Steve,_ the little voice in the back of his mind said, revealing a truth he'd didn't want to think about.

Clearing her throat, she removed her face from his shoulder. "Sorry about that," she said over the sounds of invasion from the movie.

"It's fine," he replied, using her words. "I really don't mind."

She grinned. "Thanks, friend."

_She just called you "friend". Her friend. _He smiled down at her.

As the movie continued, she hid her face in similar fashion several more times. However, when her face slid unceremoniously from his shoulder onto his chest shortly before the final credits began to roll, he realized that she'd fallen asleep _on him_. He realized the irony of the situation quickly. _I can rescue people from behind enemy lines, but I don't know what to do when a pretty girl falls asleep on me and won't let go of my hand. _

Once the credits began to roll, he wiggled his hand out of her grip and used it to support her head as he got up. He left the footrest up and laid her down on the sofa, resting her head on the arm. He flushed as he rotated her legs so they were in line with her body, making sure her dress was still in place and covered her up.

The next morning, he came downstairs just before 9 am to find her fiddling with what he assumed was his new computer wearing white sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt with "Smokies Baseball" printed on the front. He discovered she'd been awake for over two hours, using the time to make the computer easy for him to use by uninstalling unnecessary software, putting necessary software on, and putting icons on the desktop for the programs he would use the most. Later in the day, she did the same with his phone, going so far as to set up an email address for him.

The rest of the week had made him feel like he was in high school all over again. They would usually discuss what he'd read in A Short History of Nearly Everything the night before over breakfast. Each time they progressed another couple of years, she'd add to the playlist she'd made under the "music" icon on his phone labeled simply "1942-1949", eventually having to add another labeled "1950-1959". As he recalled, they were currently up to 1958 and Sputnik.

All this came before his first encounter with a shopping mall. Mercifully, Bess let him just buy more "modern" patterns on clothes much like the ones he already had. She didn't make him change his hairstyle, either. He came home with several button down shirts like the ones he already owned, but with a logo of a man on a horse on the pocket. She'd said it was a brand marker. He got a couple of new pairs of khaki pants with several pairs of blue jeans thrown in. Steve didn't understand why she wouldn't let him tuck the shirts into the jeans. He'd tuck it in anyway.

After realizing just how many slang phrases he didn't know (this realization came to her when he asked her what "YOLO" meant if they weren't referring to a yoyo), she'd forced him to watch this movie called _Clueless_. She'd _promised_ him that it really was based off Austen's Emma, although he couldn't really see much in the way of similarities. Apparently, she thought he needed to see this film called _10 Things I Hate About You_, also based on older literature. He looked at her in horror when she told him just how accurate the film was to her high school experience. Clearly, high school had changed since he'd been there.

Back in the present, Steve fidgeted in the bed as he remembered how soft and fragrant her long red hair had been in his hands when he laid her down on the couch. He knew he'd never again be able to smell coconuts and _not _think of her. He didn't need to be thinking about these things. He had a meeting with Fury in the morning, presumably to check up on his progress. The clock on the nightstand announced it was 4:30 in the morning. He rolled over onto his back hoping to find a comfortable position, but it didn't come.

Deciding that maybe a glass of water was in order, he climbed out of bed, straightening his plaid pajama pants and white tee shirt, also courtesy of his shopping trip, before opening the bedroom door. He looked down the hall, surprised to see the light on and the door open in a room he hadn't noticed before as he'd never seen the door opened. _The glass of water can wait,_ he thought as he walked toward the room. Poking his head in the door, he saw Bess putting picture frames into a box while swaying to the beat of whatever music was pouring through her headphones. The room looked rather like the room in Europe where he'd laid out the HYDRA bases on the map, bringing a mixture of familiarity and regret to the front of his mind. The walls were a tan color with dark bookshelves lining one wall. The deep brown of the desk matched the shelves.

Continuing to dance around, she turned around towards the door. Her eyes were shut as she mouthed the words to the song, some sort of ballad he assumed, judging by the pleading fist and scrunched up face she made. She opened her eyes, gasping at seeing Steve in the doorway. She ripped the earbuds out of her ears and fumbled for her iPhone to stop the music. "Steve," she said, trying to slow her heart rate. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"I woke myself up," he replied as he walked farther into the room. "Why are you awake?"

"Couldn't get comfortable, so I decided to get some of this stuff put away." She motioned toward the box on the desk beside her. "This stuff is coming with me when I move."

"What's all this?" He glanced around the room at the old maps hanging on the wall.

"This was Walt's office." She stuffed the phone and headphones into the pocket of her black sweatpants that had TENNESSEE in big orange letters down the leg. Willing to let Steve look around, she continued with her packing. The next object she picked up was what appeared to be a flag in a triangle wooden case.

"This looks like a room I'd be familiar with."

"Well, this was his office from the time they got married until the day he died. Never threw anything away. That map on the wall," she paused, motioning to the one he was glued to. "That's one of the maps they gave him in the war. He was a platoon leader."

He studied the framed map, realizing it had some of the same markings as her flour map of the D-Day invasion. "Was he there for the invasion?"

Bess nodded as she put the flag into the box with the pictures, pulling her hair back behind her shoulders. "I drew that flour map from memory of that one."

"Was that flag his?" He looked over in the direction of the box.

She shook her head. "That flag was from Jack's funeral, the one they put on top of his coffin."

Knowing how military funerals went, Steve felt his stomach lurch. He couldn't help but picture Peggy in all black, sobbing as an officer handed her the folded up flag. He was a soldier. He knew how these things worked, but this was different. He wasn't there in the hour of _her_ need.

Appearing in front of him, she ducked her head down and looked up into his stony expression. "Are you going to be ok, Steve?"

He sighed heavily before turning his gaze to hers. "I guess. I don't know."

"You don't know whether you'll be alright or you don't know what to say?"

"Both." He quickly crossed the carpet over to the large, old dark wooden desk and gently picked up the display case holding the flag. "It's that moment again where you know you couldn't have done anything to prevent anything from happening, but you still feel guilty for not being able to _do anything_."

She took hold of the other end of the case. "We do what we can when we can do it. That's all we can do. If think that every time you find yourself faced with an unpleasant situation, you'll never be able to do anything else."

He relinquished his hold on the flag case, handing it back to her, and nodded.

"Now, one of us has a meeting with Fury at nine am, meaning their car is going to be here at eight." Bess smiled weakly as she put the case back into the box with the plethora of picture frames. "That person isn't me."

"Still doesn't change the fact that I can't sleep," Steve grumbled, once again staring at the map of the D-Day invasion.

"Anything I can do to help?" She grabbed another empty box and began packing up the neighboring bookshelf.

"I…" he faltered, unsure of how to respond to what seemed like such a forward question. "No, I don't think so."

"Did you try reading? As good as the book is, sometimes it puts me to sleep," she suggested as she taped up the box full of books, mostly books on military history.

He moved around the heavy, ornate desk to flop down in the old leather chair behind it. "I tried that two hours ago."

She unfolded another box to begin putting books in. "You wouldn't be the first person in history to take a pillow and blanket to the couch and watch mind-numbing late-night television until you got bored and fell asleep."

"If I understood some of those cartoons I know you're referring to, maybe I would," he replied, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands.

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you worried about that meeting with Fury in the morning? Is that why you can't sleep?"

"No. It's just a check-in." He watched as she closed her eyes and contorting her face, betraying that she was clearly troubled by something. "Why can't you sleep?"

"I told you, I couldn't get comfortable," she responded, her voice thick with unspoken tension.

"You wouldn't look like you were about to…cry if you just couldn't get comfortable. You'd be watching that cartoon about the family with the talking white dog," he whispered, hoping she heard him.

_Damn. He's got me_. She finally opened her eyes and turned to face him. "Suppose you had your choice of…colonels," she started. "One of the colonels had been in the Army all his life and worked his way up from the lowliest of privates. Seen his fair share of action. The other colonel was half the age of the first one and got his promotion fast-tracked because his daddy was a general."

"What's the point of this, Bess?"

"Whose judgment would you trust more going into battle?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"You don't get to choose who leads…"

"Answer, Steve," she breathed as she closed her eyes.

"The first one," Steve replied honestly.

"Exactly. In case you hadn't reasoned it out, I'm the second colonel in that example, and Fury knows it. There's no way I could have earned such a 'cushy' assignment on my own as an entry-level agent without that phone call from Aunt Peggy. Not to mention that when I got you, my security clearance level shot through the roof. More than one person noticed that." She resumed her packing. "You're not worried about your meeting with Fury, but I'm so nervous about it that I've only eaten a bagel all day."

He suddenly felt guilty. _How did I miss that? More than that though, how did I miss the fact that she's been that worried? _"I had no idea."

"That was the point," she smiled sadly. "I didn't want you thinking about it. I didn't want you thinking you had to embellish whatever you're going to tell him for my sake." As she reached for the next book on the shelf, she met an obstacle: Steve's hand gripping her wrist.

"It's more than that," he said, looking down expectantly into her brown eyes now starting to mist with tears.

She nodded quickly as she fought back the tears that threatened to fall. "All I want is a chance to prove I can actually accomplish what's been asked of me, that I'm not just here because he owed her a favor. God knows I'm trying. I mean, my specialty was the Hundred Years' War…" A tear began to slide down her face despite her best efforts. "I'm so scared he's going to take this away from me. Strike one was when I was _here_ when they found the ship…"

He felt a sudden loss for words, never having previously had to comfort a crying female over the age of ten. "If it's any consolation, I think you're doing a swell job," he added, shocked when she wrapped her arms around his stomach and buried her face in his tee shirt.

"Steve, what have I told you about 'swell'?" she mumbled into his shirt as she laughed through her tears.

"That I'm the only one still using that word?" He smiled and returned the hug.

* * *

The screeching of the alarm clock on the nightstand woke Steve up with a start at seven am as schedule. He'd finally gotten to sleep at about 5:30 after Bess calmed down to the point of joking with him about his outfit for the meeting. Opening his eyes wide several times to adjust to wakefulness and yawning, he rolled out of bed. After pulling the pair of blue jeans and plain hunter green polo shirt she'd suggested out of the closet, he sleepily made his way to the shower.

Bess opened one eye when the sound of the bathroom door shutting and shower water turning on reached her room. She'd only gone to bed about an hour ago, judging by the current time, but she knew she'd need to get up. She could always nap later. Ever since she had been informed of Steve's meeting with Fury this morning, she planned to finish cleaning out Peggy's room. She hadn't gone back in there since she'd begun drunk-cleaning after the funeral, mostly because of Steve's erratic sleeping habits. If she slammed a drawer a tad too hard, she feared he'd show up in the room and…lose it at the sight of a sweater or something.

_I must be getting old_, she thought as she trudged down the stairs. _I can't pull all-nighters anymore. Does this mean I have to take better care of myself and lay off the booze? God, I hope not._ Mechanically, she walked over to the coffee maker. _A full pot should do it between the two of us._

When Steve opened the bathroom door, ready to face the day, the familiar smell of coffee brewing greeted him. _Bess must be awake. She's never awake this early…_ Shrugging, he walked downstairs looking surprisingly awake for a super soldier running on about two and a half hours of sleep. "How much sleep did _you_ get?" he asked, observing her rumpled appearance and hint of bags under her eyes as she leaned up against the counter in front of the coffee maker.

"Enough for now." She handed him an empty mug and scooted over to allow him access to the "elixir of life" as she'd called it. She tried to blink herself awake with every sip of the hot coffee she consumed. She watched him prepare his coffee with a smile. "I've got some stuff I need to take care of while you're gone this morning."

"What kind of things?" he asked, taking the first sip and immediately feeling more awake.

Bess smiled and put down her cup. "You concentrate on your meeting," she reminded as she began to fix the collar of his polo and brushing out an imaginary wrinkle on his shoulder, feeling more like a mother sending their child to school for the first time.

* * *

Wiping the sheen of sweat off her forehead on the inside collar of her tee shirt, she stepped back, hands on her hips, and admired her handiwork. She'd organized the contents of Peggy's room, without Maker's Mark this time, into "toss", "donate", and "save" boxes. The "save" box contained three dresses from sometime in the early sixties, the pictures, and a couple of knickknacks from the nightstand drawer. The other boxes overflowed with far out of date clothes and shoes.

She sat down on the bed and stared at the boxes on the floor and let out a small laugh as she took down her long red hair. Thanks to her late grandmother, Peggy's sister, there wasn't a lot else to sift through in the wake of Peggy's death. Bess didn't think she'd ever tell Steve, but tough love actually saved her great-aunt.

She remembered the story her grandmother told her in an effort to help her understand the woman she'd be living with shortly before she made the move to New York to start college after Walt's death. The aging Mrs. Williams knew her sister all too well. With a push from Bess, she knew Peggy couldn't keep the house the same after his passing as she'd done with her son.

In 1980, more than ten years after Peggy's son Jack died in Vietnam, Jane and her late husband took a trip to visit Peggy and Walt. Their son was newly married, Arthur had vacation time, why not come to the Big Apple for the first time since Peggy's wedding? Late one night while returning to bed from a quick trip to the bathroom, Jane discovered a light under a closed door. Opening the door to turn off the light, she discovered Peggy sitting on Jack's old bed. She looked around the room, realizing that nothing had changed since her nephew had shipped out for Vietnam in 1968.

"Keeping this room like this isn't doing anyone any good, Peggy. All Jack's clothes in here? They're not doing him any good. He's got the only clothes he needs from now on – his robes so he can sing in Saint Peter's choir. Donate 'em to the homeless shelter. Seeing this room this way every time you pass it isn't doing you any good. It's a mother's right to grieve when her baby dies, I'm not saying it's not. I'm not telling you to forget him. Keep a few things that remind you of the good times. I'll stay here with you as long as it takes to get this room redone."

Jane proceeded to stay with Peggy long after her husband went back home to Tennessee helping her sister clean out the old bedroom. After many, many tears, they saved a handful of mementos, but donated the majority of the clothes to Peggy's parish church, stripped the very outdated wallpaper, painted the walls, laid down new carpet, and stained the furniture.

One day near the end of Bess's second semester at Columbia, just shy of the first anniversary of Walt's death, she returned to Peggy's house to see her great-aunt writing "toss", "donate", and "keep" on three boxes. "Good. You're home. Put your bag down and carry these upstairs for me," Peggy ordered with a smile. "Bring your camera because your grandmother refuses to let me have a moment's peace until we get started on this." Bess did as ordered, and the two spent the remainder of the evening sorting some of Walt's clothes into the boxes over stories of the past and tears.

Bess smiled at the memory. _I guess this is how my family deals with loss – we clean the dearly departed's shit out. _After she hauled the "toss" box from Peggy's room into the big garbage can outside and the "donate" box into the back of her Jeep, the alarm she'd set on her phone sounded, alerting her that it'd been three hours since Steve left for his meeting. She quickly jogged upstairs to hop in the shower before he got back.

* * *

Exiting the black SUV and waving goodbye to the nameless SHIELD agent, Steve shoved his hands in the front pockets of his dark jeans and shrugged. _Maybe he is right. Maybe I should just get on the bike and ride, do some exploring… _He looked up at the row house at Bess's bedroom window and then down to the black motorcycle. Decision made, he skipped a step as he opened the door. _Just need to tell Bess I'm leaving. _He bounded up the stairs at the sight of the bathroom light with an open door and the sound of heavy, loud music booming.

Dancing to the computer generated space-y music clad only in a pair of silk leopard print panties and a towel on her head, Bess rummaged through her underwear drawer to find the desired zebra print push-up bra. "Maybe I should cry for help. Maybe I should kill myself. Blame it on my A.D.D. baby. Maybe I'm a different breed. Maybe I'm not listening. So blame it on my A.D.D. baby. Sail," she sang as she ripped the towel off her head and tossed it out into the hallway.

Steve began the turn that would take him into Bess's bedroom, only to be smacked in the face by a fluffy orange towel scented by her coconut shampoo. He dropped the towel to the floor and blinked away the water droplets that stuck to his eyelashes. "Hey, Bess, I'm going to…"

"Holy motherfucking shit balls!" she screamed, clutching the bra to her chest instinctively.

He didn't know whether he was blushing more at her language or the fact that he was seeing his "handler" with nothing on between her and her maker save for a very tiny pair of underwear…and an odd charm hanging from her navel. He couldn't help but notice there was some writing above her left hip. _Liar. You know why you're blushing._ He quickly turned around. "Oh my god! Bess I'm so sorry!" he shouted, his face now a bright red.

"Your meeting must've gone faster than I anticipated," she said, clearing her throat as she tried to pretend nothing happened. She quickly donned the bra and the plain black tee shirt and tiny denim shorts she'd pulled out shortly before his arrival. _You've probably gone and given the boy a heart attack. Or an erection. He just saw more boob in ten seconds…_ She couldn't help but smile as she pulled her hair out of the inside of the shirt and let it flow down over her shoulders. "Which means it either went really well or really badly."

"T-the meeting went g-great," he stammered, still not looking back at her. "Don't worry, you're n-not sacked."

"It's okay to turn around now, Steve," she laughed.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered as he turned around looking rather sheepish.

Completely unbidden, the scene from the _M*A*S*H_ tv show where Colonel Potter makes his first appearance while Radar is sunbathing shirtless sprang to the front of her mind. _"Permission to cover up my naked-idity, sir?"_ "Now, what were you going to do?"

"Well," he began slowly as the blush faded from his face. "He suggested that since I can use the phone you got me well enough now, maybe I should venture out by myself and see what happens."

She nodded, feeling a pang of… She couldn't identify the feeling right off. Guilt? No, that wasn't right. Jealousy? It felt like jealousy, but at what? Steve was a grown man. Why not let him ride around on that two wheeled demon for a bit? _Why am I feeling like this? _"I see. And do you think that's a good idea?" she asked, turning off the light as she brushed past him and picked up her towel.

"D-do you not think it is?" he called after her. "I thought about going into Manhattan, see how things were going. See if the Met was open…"

"I think it's a good idea, Steve." She hung the towel up on the over-the-door rack in the bathroom and swept her hair up into a messy knot before heading downstairs. "Go! Do…whatever it is you do." She overdramatically shooed him away, unable to get Peggy's own words to her out of her head. _You're young with your life ahead of you. Go to Manhattan, meet a nice man, live life. _

"Are you sure?" He lowered his head to look her in the eye.

She grabbed his old leather jacket off its place on the bottom of the stair rail and shoved it into his grasp with a fake grin. "So sure that if you don't go, I will have no problem never making fried chicken for you again."

"What time should I be back?" he asked, donning his sunglasses.

She laughed despite herself. "_You're_ asking _me_ when you should be back here? What are you, ten?"

"I… I didn't know what time you wanted to have dinner. I'd hate to be late," Steve explained softly.

_Yeah, he's _definitely_ not from around here. Wonder if he'd get it if I asked him about having his robe, slippers, and pipe ready upon his return? _"Dinner's whenever you get back." Bess forced a smile and patted him on the arm.

He broke out into a huge grin. "I'll see you later!" he shouted before running out the front door like a child who'd just been told he could go out and play.

She watched him from the front door, shaking her head as he excitedly started the bike and took off down the street. Taking her phone out of her back pocket, she shot a quick text. _Tony, the Cap is on the bike headed towards you looking like a kid going to the county fair for the first time. Fury told him to go wander around. If he gets into trouble, I will be holding you personally responsible. _

"What am I going to do with the rest of my day with no eager student to teach?" she asked aloud after she shut the door behind her, heading for the living room. _Wait a second, why in the hell are you feeling like this? _She flopped down on the sofa and laughed in disbelief at herself. _Virginia Elizabeth, you're honestly hurt he didn't ask you to go with him. You dumb bitch. _Just then, her phone beeped, signaling a new message.

_Why is he my responsibility? I thought assimilating him was your job! –Tony_

She rolled her eyes. _It is my job. Fury told him to go out on his own. He took the advice literally. Therefore, not my problem. _

_What happens when Fury says he's assimilated, and he doesn't need you anymore? You'll be alone either here or in Stark Tower. _She shrugged. _Well, it's like that sarcastic card says: "Money can't buy happiness, but I'd much rather cry in a mansion"._

She shoved the phone back in her pocket and started to walk upstairs when an idea hit her. Stopping halfway up the stairs, she pulled her phone back out and typed another short message before finishing her walk up the stairs: _Hey bitch, what are you getting into tonight?_

Bess dropped her phone onto the bathroom counter and looked at her face in the mirror with a grimace. Deciding she didn't have much else to do, she pulled out her hair dryer and straightner from the drawer and turned it on.

The phone screen lit up with a message: _I like how you text me when you're bored, skank. If you must know, I'm going to do a "guest bartender" and date auction thing at Tombstone Saloon starting at 8. Wanna get the team back together if you're not too busy being Moneypenny? I know Dave would absolutely flip his shit._

Mulling over the offer to reunite with her former coworker at their old job for a night, she typed out a quick reply that she'd be there. With an evil grin, she decided there'd be enough time for a four hour nap.

* * *

Steve shut off his motorcycle across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, sighing heavily when he saw the banner across the front that indicated it was closed for repairs. He'd intended to go, knowing it was a long shot that it would be open, given the amount of damage to Manhattan, just to see how much something he was intimately familiar with had changed. Eyeing the façade of the building, he noticed chunks missing out of several of the columns and tape across several of the glass doors to prevent more glass from shattering. _Well, I guess it's only been ten days since Loki was here…_

He began chewing the inside of his lip and pulled the phone out of his pocket, noticing there was a message from Tony and a message from Bess popped up just as soon as he clicked the screen on. He decided to read Tony' s first.

_Bess says to keep an eye on you while you're exploring. To use her words, you're "looking like a kid going to the county fair for the first time". She's so adorable when she uses those "southern" metaphors. Oh, she just let me know that she's going to be at a place called Tombstone Saloon tonight at eight reliving her college experience. Come to the tower then, and I'll take you there. You're gonna love it, old man. The rest of the day… I don't care what you do._

Steve rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he agreed with a simple "ok" to coming to this strange place with Tony. Every fiber of his being shouted that it could only end in disaster, especially if Bess was going to be there "reliving her college days". She'd mentioned a friend that kept her from doing stupid things while drinking in college…

With Tony's message out of the way, he brought up the message from Bess.

_Hey soldier! Hope you're enjoying your foray into…wherever you decided to go. I just heard from an old friend a few minutes ago, and she and I are going to go out and catch up for a bit tonight. I'll be leaving the house at about six, but I'll be sure to leave you something to heat up for dinner. Don't know when I will be back, but if I don't see you before I leave, don't wait up. Have fun!_

Shaking his head, he started the bike again and began the drive down Fifth Avenue towards the New York Public Library. Hopefully they'd be open. As he rode, he found himself trying to reconcile the two text messages. _Bess said she's catching up with an old friend, and Tony's inviting me along to see her? _

All thoughts of Bess, Tony, and college experiences went out the window when the familiar lion statues in front of the library appeared.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Alright folks. As always, I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing them from someone else's toy box.

The song for this chapter is Alice Cooper's "Department of Youth". Totally got to see him in concert last week. I fan-girled. Like full on "Beatles at the Ed Sullivan Show" squealing in six inch platforms. So worth it.

Sorry this chapter took me so long to get up. I sent it to my beta last week, and I haven't heard back from her. I tried to contact her yesterday, but haven't heard back either. I know folks take summer classes (Not me. I graduated, thank god.) and are busy, but I just wanted to get this chapter up. My hubby and I are going to a wedding out of town this weekend, and I've kept y'all waiting long enough. (See? Aren't I nice?) If there are any changes whenever she gets back to me, I'll make a note on the next chapter for you to come back and check this one out again.

Everybody hold onto your cowboy boots. Next chapter's gonna be fun. *laughs evilly*

Enjoy!

Jen


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Obligatory disclaimer. Nothing is truly mine.

I'd like to thank TrickPhotography (who has a wonderful Steve/OC story…seriously, go check it out) for her help with this. Sale el Sol had to step down as my beta due to a personal emergency, and Ms. TrickPhotography stepped in to help me edit.

Out of all the chapters in this story so far, this is the one that I've looked forward to writing the most. I've edited it countless times. Ms. TrickPhotography has edited it. It feels like something's…missing despite all that. If you happen to find it, let me know. Heh.

Chapter eight is in the works right now. There's a specific part that I am trying incredibly hard to get right, so it may take some time. Bear with me, I promise there's another pretty significant turning point in this next chapter. Awkward Steve will still show periodically, but that's part of the game.

Thanks so much for everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted. Y'all make my day. Makes me feel like someone likes this. A special shout out to OCDgirl326, my 20th reviewer. Thanks hon!

Song for this chapter is "I Am Not a Robot" by Marina and the Diamonds. Check 'em out. Also mentioned is "That Don't Impress Me Much" by Shania Twain. Yeah, that happened.

Jen

Chapter Seven – "I Am Not a Robot"

_I'm vulnerable, I'm vulnerable  
I am not a robot  
You're loveable, so loveable  
But you're just troubled  
Guess what? I'm not a robot_

_I don't know why I'm doing this. _Steve watched Manhattan grow smaller and smaller with each floor the glass walled elevator car passed. _I'm in an elevator on the way to Tony Stark's apartment. He's going to take me to a place called Tombstone Saloon. This is such a bad idea. I don't even like him that much…_

As the elevator door opened automatically, a disembodied British-accented voice announced his arrival, causing Steve to almost jump out of his skin.

Tony Stark rounded the corner and appeared in the ornate entrance way. "Thanks, JARVIS. I see he's here."

"Will that be all, sir?"

Tony chuckled at the sight of the first super soldier clearly channeling his inner fraternity brother with his Ralph Lauren polo and jeans while looking up warily at the ceiling trying to find the source of that pesky voice. "That'll be all." He tugged down on the cuffs of his periwinkle and white striped button down shirt. "Get used to the voice, Captain. I lost a bet with Bess, and JARVIS will be installed in your apartment here, which isn't ready by the way."

"What is it?" Steve asked, suddenly feeling under-dressed at the sight of Tony's black dress pants and dress shoes.

He patted Steve on the shoulder with a knowing smirk. "Something right out of Brave New World. I'm sure you at least recognize that title."

"Yeah…" He peered around the open apartment, seeing that even Tony Stark couldn't restore what had been destroyed that quickly. "It scared the hell out of me," he replied distantly.

Tony cleared his throat with a grin. _This is such a bad idea taking him, but it's going to be so hilarious. _"Ready to go to your first honky-tonk, Cap?"

"A what?"

* * *

Bess smiled as she walked down the stained concrete steps into the Tombstone Saloon where she was warmly greeted by a crushing hug from a leggy blonde over the strains of Blake Shelton pouring out of the speakers. "Hey, Kelsey," she said with a laugh.

"Nice to see you too, bitch," the other girl replied with a wink from her bright blue eyes. Pulling back from the hug, she grabbed her old friend's hand. "I'm so sorry about Peggy. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I'm doing what the rest of my family does when someone dies – clean out their shit, throw myself into work." Bess shrugged. "Come talk with me while I change. I didn't really feel like wearing that get-up while walking from the subway."

The two girls made their way to the bathroom at the back of the sparsely populated bar. "How is work, by the way?" Kelsey asked, adjusting her white cut-off tee shirt and similarly cut up denim shorts in the mirror while Bess stepped into a stall.

"You know, same ol' thing you'd expect from a junior agent at a nameless government agency," she sighed as she changed out of her black shirt and shorts and into her dark wash denim shorts and white halter vest that revealed her horseshoe navel ring. She hated not being able to tell her friend about what she really did. It was probably for the best. Knowing Kelsey, she might have made an attempt on Steve's innocence the second she met him. "God, it's been forever since I've worn this getup." She struggled with the button on the shorts before sliding on her tan leather snip-toed Stetson boots and straw hat.

"I love it when you talk country to me, Virginia," she teased with a purr. "By the way, is that a tan I see?"

"Spray tan," Bess replied exiting the stall and shoving her friend out of the way of the mirror above the sink as she quickly put her long red hair into braided pigtails. "After I got the government job, I cancelled my tanning bed membership. Since this was spur of the moment and I've lost some of that glow, I opted to get it back real quick."

"Well, that's good. You're going to be singing on the bar before you're auctioned off. I hope you still only want to sing that Shania song, because I've already told David."

Bess smiled. "Good thing I am so predictable."

* * *

"Tony, she _said_ she was going to go catch up with an old friend. Aren't we intruding?" Steve protested as Tony shoved him out of the convertible onto the sidewalk.

"She may have told you she was catching up. She probably did catch up with Kelsey for a bit. But she's down there right now bartending in cowboy boots and a straw hat." He grabbed Steve by the buttons on his green polo and pulled him down the concrete steps to the door.

"How do you know that?" Steve stopped, knowing he couldn't be pulled anymore given Tony's size and lack of Iron Man suit.

Tony rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "I'm guessing Bess told you she met me after she got on with SHIELD and came looking for anything I might have pertaining to you?" At Steve's nod, he continued. "How best to say this… Well, she came looking for stuff at my house, but that wasn't how we met. I stumbled in here one night drunk off my ass about a year before this." He tapped the center of his chest, gesturing at the arc reactor. "She only worked here on weekends and never told Peggy. I don't know where she told her she worked, but it wasn't here."

"Why wouldn't she…" he began, confused.

"You'll see when we get in there. Anyway, I came back after I sobered up to pay the tab I left open. We quickly discovered who the other person was, especially after she said I tried to take her home with me." Tony smiled when Steve's mouth dropped open. "I never told Peggy where she worked, and she never told Peggy I hit on her. Now, can we please go inside?"

Steve nodded apprehensively and opened the door, his ears assaulted by a cacophony of fiddle and banjo sounds over the speakers in the bar. The light colored walls of the establishment were barely visible from all the picture frames containing autographed pictures of musicians and actors he didn't recognize. The lighting drew his eyes to the long wooden bar and the throng of people standing in front waiting to be served. He scanned the crowd for any sign of Bess until Tony grabbed his arm and pointed to one of the girls behind the bar. If his mouth dropped when he learned Stark drunkenly made a pass at Bess, it hit the floor when he saw her climb up on top of the bar to stand beside the blonde bar maid in her old "work uniform".

"To the few ladies and plentiful gentlemen, I'd like to say thanks for coming," an older man with white hair and matching beard wearing western gear from head to toe announced into the microphone. "Now, we'd only planned on auctioning off Kelsey here for charity, but she's managed to get her old partner in crime, Bess, along for the ride. So tonight, we will be auctioning off both these lovely ladies for charity. The winning bidder gets to choose the charity and take their lovely lady out on a date." He smiled. "Take it away, Kelsey."

"Did you know about this?" Steve hissed into Tony's ear as the blonde began singing a slow country song about how she wanted a love like Johnny and June, not that he knew who they were, while holding onto one of the supports for the bar.

"I had no idea, but it just proves that this is going to be a great evening," he laughed heartily. "Especially when we see which of these poor saps has to take Miss Spitfire out on a date."

"Miss Potts said Bess was like your little sister. Are you going to let some…some stranger _buy her _like a car?"

"Miss Potts," Tony replied, clearly mocking Steve. "Does not know that blackout drunk me tried to sleep with yon fair maiden. Besides, didn't they have charity auctions back in your day? They did it in _Gone with the Wind_."

He pointed at Bess, who still stood on top of the bar waiting for her turn in denim shorts cut so short, the bottoms of the front pockets hung out. "Scarlett O'Hara was not dressed like _that_."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "She doesn't need you to rescue her. Nobody forced her to do this, Rogers."

"Then why…"

"Ask her yourself. You have a mouth." Leaning against the wall smugly after the blonde had been successfully sold for five hundred dollars once her song finished, Tony shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Shh. The show's about to start."

Bess took her place at the center of the bar and looked down at her boots as an older, upbeat country song filled the bar. "I've known a few guys who thought they were pretty smart, but you've got being right down to an art. You think you're a genius - you drive me up the wall." She grabbed one of the supports and walked a slow circle around it. "You're a regular original, a know-it-all. Oh, you think you're special. Oh, you think you're something else," she sang with a smile. "Okay, so you're a rocket scientist," Bess spoke, jumping off the top of the bar and landing in the floor in front of it.

"What is she _doing_?" Steve asked, trying to reconcile the image of the Bess he'd known up to this moment with the spry, bouncy girl in what he considered to be indecent western wear.

"That don't impress me much. So you got the brain but have you got the touch? Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright. But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night," she continued as she strutted across the floor, boot heels clicking on the old wood. "That don't impress me much." Holding the microphone above her head, she slowly turned and wiggled her hips in a way that Steve had only seen previously on hula dancers in an old newsreel.

Tony broke out into a Cheshire cat grin. "Working the crowd," he laughed.

"I never knew a guy who carried a mirror in his pocket and a comb up his sleeve-just in case." She somehow managed to contain a gasp when she saw Tony and _Steve_ standing at the back of the bar. Tony… Well, that wasn't a surprise seeing him in a bar like this in the company of scantily clad women, but he had to go and bring Steve along. Looking away from Tony's smug face and Steve's mixture of awe and horror, she continued with her song, walking back towards the bar. "And all that extra hold gel in your hair oughtta lock it, 'cause Heaven forbid it should fall outta place…"

When the music ended, the bar patrons applauded as she took a bow. Tony looked on with amusement as Steve was clearly trying to figure out exactly how her clothes stayed on when her head almost touched her knee caps.

"Now, let's auction off Miss Bess, our very own southern belle," the older man began. "We'll start the bidding at…"

"Ten thousand and you pick the charity," Tony said with a raised hand much to Steve's relief. He strode over to the older man and pulled out a card. "Call this number in the morning, and we'll write a check to whomever you want it to go to."

Bess groaned audibly as Tony whispered for her to grab her bag. After she'd said goodbye to everyone and pretended to be happy to be leaving in the company of _the _Tony Stark and his muscled friend, she stormed out of the bar ahead of the two.

"There there, don't we all feel better? I contributed to charity, Cap has been introduced to some strange nightlife, and you've boosted the morale of the masses with your assets, Bess," Tony quipped, unlocking the Acura R8. It predated the one he'd driven Doctor Banner to the airport in, but it was still fun to drive.

She rolled her eyes. "Tony, how the hell are we all going anywhere in that car? There's two seats. I took the subway."

"I was going to give you a ride back to the tower so Cap here can get his bike and take you home, I presume." He started the engine.

"You fucking moron, there's only two seats in this car," she said, clearly exasperated, stamping her foot like a child. This _was not_ the way she expected this evening to go.

"Well, I'm driving, so you can either become a contortionist and fit onto the floorboard there, we can tie you to the hood like a dead deer and have you get bugs in your teeth, or sit with Opie." He smiled.

Before Steve could open his mouth to ask who Opie was, Bess held up a hand to stop him. "Don't. I'm not in the mood to explain." She motioned for Steve to get in the car with a defeated sigh. "Can we put the top up please? Some of us are more exposed than others."

"But it's such a nice night, Your Highness. Request denied. Now, are you two getting in or what?"

Thinking quickly, Steve reached in the car and grabbed his old leather jacket, gesturing with his head for her to put it on as he held it out to her.

She rubbed her hands over her face before stepping into the jacket and zipping it up to her neck. The sleeves came down a good six inches past her finger tips, and the waistband came to the middle of her thigh. She couldn't help but notice how much she loved the smell of the jacket. The smell of a mix of leather, a hint of sweat, aftershave, and outside wafted up into her nose as she zipped it closed.

"I can just easily let you _walk_ back uptown to get your bike, old man," Tony taunted, revving the engine.

Steve reluctantly opened the car door and sat in the passenger seat. He made a move to buckle the seat belt, but Bess's sudden arrival unceremoniously into his lap stopped him.

"I know you're Mister Muscles and all, but if shithead here crashes this car, I'm _not_ going through the windshield," she said, grabbing the belt and fastening them both in before putting the shoulder belt behind her right shoulder. "Now drive, Tony."

Tony reached over and turned on the radio as he pulled away from the curb. A soft guitar melody began to play. _"Bye bye bye, baby bye-bye. I may be seein' you around when I change my livin' standard and I move uptown…"_

Steve began to fidget, clearly unsure of where to put his hands. His instinct was to put them on her waist, like the passenger on a motorcycle would. He gripped the armrest with his left hand and the seat cushion with his right. _I knew this would be a bad idea_. He let his head sink back into the headrest, closing his eyes as loose strands of her copper hair whipped across his face in the breeze, bringing the coconut scent of her shampoo with them.

"_So long, my honey, so long. Too bad you had to drift away, 'cause I could use some company right here on this road, on this road I'm on today…"_

"The only way this could get any better would be if I turned on the radio and 'Honky Tonk Women' played instead of Joplin."

"Tony, I'm really not in the mood. You just wasted ten thousand dollars on me. You embarrassed the hell out of Steve. Just shut up and drive, please." She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the cool night air rushing at her face.

"Your wish is my command, your highness." Tony rolled his eyes and continued to drive.

"_I get the feeling I could chase you clean on in the ball and wind up staying pull off, put down strung out and stalled. Honey, I ain't got time to wait on you or to fetch your super ball, I got lots of things I've got to do_."

_The one time I go out, this happens. I'm in the car with fucking Iron Man, and I'm sitting on Captain America's lap. Speaking of Captain America, I think he's about to go into cardiac arrest. _Resigning herself to the fact that her night was ruined, she just gave up. _It can't get any worse._ She leaned back into Steve so that her back was flush against his chest. She cracked a barely noticeable smile when she realized she could feel his heart beating rapidly into her back and rested her head on his left shoulder, eyes fixed on the night sky above her. She could feel his shallow breathing in her ear

"_I know that you got things to do and places to be. I guess I'll have to find the thing you placed on me. I may wind up in the street or sleep beneath a tree, still I guess you know honey I've gotta go."_

Keeping his hands rooted to their places, Steve stopped breathing for the first few seconds of the uninvited (but not unwelcome) contact. _If only Bucky could see me now. I'm in a fancy car with a scantily clad woman in my lap. _He raised his eyebrows and shifted his blue gaze to the sky. _Of course, he'd probably laugh that I'm holding onto everything but her…_

As Tony turned onto Park Avenue, he hit a bump. Steve instinctively wrapped his arms around Bess's small waist as he felt her ever so slightly leave his lap. As he made to move his arms, she uncrossed hers from over her chest and touched his forearm, silently asking him not to move them.

_Well Bucky, I've got my arm around her. What do I do now?_ He looked back up at the sky as they approached Stark Tower.

"So, you're taking me home on your bike?" Bess asked after Tony parked, put the top up on the car, and went upstairs.

"I-I guess I am, unless you don't want to." He got on the motorcycle slowly, eyes never leaving her face as they found her apprehension. "I promise it won't bite," he whispered with a smile, completely at a loss for where that confident smile came from.

She slung her the strap of her bag across her chest and rolled up the sleeves of the jacket before climbing onto the old bike. "Is this where I'm supposed to sit?" At Steve's nod, she wrapped her arms around his chest and buried her face in the space between his shoulder blades. "Let's get this over with," she said into his shirt.

_And now I've got the girl on my bike._ He cracked a crooked half smile as he started the engine and began the drive back to Queens. As they drove on, he could feel her turning her head at various points and snuggling back down into the material of his shirt.

When they arrived back at the old row house about forty-five minutes later, Bess was the first one to jump off the bike. She let the sleeves of his jacket fall back down over her hands and clutched the strap of her polka dotted purse awkwardly with both hands as she looked up at Steve. "Thanks for the ride, Cap. I, uh… You and Tony's unwarranted donation to charity probably saved me from a very bad hangover in the morning," she said as she watched him pull a brown paper bag out of one of the saddle bags before they walked up the steps and into the house.

"And saved you from having to go on a date with a stranger," he reminded as soon as she shut the door. He put the bag down by the door. "Why did you lie about where you were going?"

"Oh god, please don't do this," Bess moaned as she set her purse down in order to get the jacket off.

"I thought we were friends."

She unzipped the jacket and handed it back to him, once again revealing her…revealing outfit. _He's going to insist. _"Because if I said 'Hey, I'm going to go play bartender and shake my tits for charity with my friend', what would you have said?" She waved at him when he tried to answer. "You would have tried to play the knight in fucking stars and stripes and stop me."

"No I wouldn't," he replied in denial.

"Steve, yes you would have! Don't tell me otherwise."

"I understand why you didn't tell Peggy about how you and Stark really met…" he began, grabbing her arm when she tried to leave the room.

She turned around to face him, putting her hand on her bare spray-tanned hip. "Oh he told you that story, did he? Yeah, you definitely would have come to rescue me. "

"…But what I don't understand is why you felt you had to do, whatever you did to your skin because it wasn't that color this morning, and dress up like a…a…loose woman in order to get someone to donate to charity!" His cheeks began to color. "I'm not saying that you're…"

"Go fuck yourself, Steve. Seriously, go fuck yourself." Bess turned around to leave, but then thought better of it. "You're right, I didn't tell Peggy about how I met Tony originally, because then I'd have to explain this outfit to her, too. That, and even in her nineties, she would have ripped Tony's head off with one hand." She paused just long enough to take a breath. "It's not like working for SHIELD is exactly conducive to me having any kind of love life, especially now that you're here. I can't exactly bring someone home. The last date I went on was right before my graduation! Two years ago! I _had hoped_ tonight would end with me finally getting to have sex again. I've seriously forgotten what it feels like! I remember that I really enjoyed it, but that's about it!" she had been shouting so loud her face was beginning to color from the stress.

He began to blush so much that he thought his whole body would turn red. "Bess, I…"

"That Jeep you've been riding around in? I made the down payment on that in _cash_, Steve. Graduation present to myself. I worked weekends at that bar while taking classes, and a couple more days than that when I wasn't. I made a _ton_ of money. I'm an equal-opportunity capitalist. I'll take your money. I don't care who you worship, vote for, or what team you're a fan of. So, you go fuck yourself. This _whore_ is going to bed." She snatched up her purse and phone before marching up the stairs and locking herself in the bedroom.

He ran up the stairs after her. _I _knew_ this was going to be a bad idea. Don't go anywhere with Tony again._ Once he got to her bedroom door, he knocked softly.

"Go away. I'd hate for Captain Perfect to get his sunshine and apple pie reputation sullied by someone who's clearly beneath him," she called from inside the room as she kicked off the boots and threw her clothes on the floor. "And I swear to sweet baby Jesus, if you take the pins out of the door and come in anyway, I will fucking stab you." She changed quickly into her pajamas.

"Bess, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I… I don't know why I did. A fella shouldn't talk to a girl like that." He leaned his head down and rested it on the heavy door. "Bess?"

"You know what, go find yourself a Betty Grable look alike and have _her_ bring you up to speed on what you missed."

"But I don't want…"

He heard her fumbling for something, and then a few seconds later, heard her speak.

"Director Fury?" she asked before putting the call on speaker phone.

"_What is it that you want, Agent Williams? I actually do have other things to do, you know._"

"I would like to request to be relieved of my duties with Captain Rogers, sir. Certain events have transpired that leave me sure that I no longer hold his trust. The student-teacher relationship is built on trust, and without it…"

Steve pounded on the door. "Don't do this, Bess!"

"_Jesus Christ, Williams, what in the hell did you do? He was just in here this morning singing your praises so loudly, I was starting to think he had a crush on you!" _

"All due respect sir, I believe Captain Rogers needs someone with a more conservative outlook to help him adjust."

"_Given the fact that I can distinctly hear him protesting outside, I'm beginning to think that Captain Rogers doesn't agree with your decision. Request denied, Agent Williams. You two go kiss and make up and leave me the hell alone!"_

"But sir…" Her protest fell upon deaf ears as Fury ended the call.

* * *

Steve awoke suddenly when his head dropped from its resting place against the frame of Bess's door. Glancing down, he realized he was still wearing his green polo and blue jeans from the previous day. He'd fallen asleep sitting on the floor leaning up against the wall next to her door. Figuring she would have to come out some time, he decided to wait so he could try to apologize again. He looked down at his lap and found a book, a DVD, and a note with his name on the top.

_Steve,_

_I've gone out for a bit. Before you ask, I'm not whoring myself out. I'm doing the next best thing: getting my hair done. _

_While I'm out, get started on the Sixties. Here's a biography of John F. Kennedy, the man they renamed Idlewild after, and __The Beatles: The First US Visit__. The book will take you a while to get through, but the DVD you should be able to finish before I get back. _

_Peggy was never super big on music made after 1960, but she had a soft spot for these guys. Without them, music today wouldn't be what it is. But aside from the sheer musical awesomeness you will experience (some of their greatest work happened after this, but we will get there when we get there), you'll get a pretty good picture of "the calm before the storm", the first half of the Sixties where the Vietnam War wasn't politically unpopular. _

_As mad as I may still be after last night, I can't not do the job that I wasn't dismissed from. Get to work, Captain._

_Bess_

He rose from his uncomfortable position, popping several joints as he did so, taking the note, book, and movie with him downstairs. After he'd made some coffee and poured some cereal into a bowl, he took his breakfast into the living room to start the DVD.

"_February 1964_" flashed across the black and white movie as the scene quickly changed from the interior of a radio station to teenagers running down to the tarmac to greet four men that clearly needed a haircut.

"_Close your eyes and I'll kiss you. Tomorrow, I'll miss you. Remember I'll always be true. And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day. And I'll send all my lovin' to you…_"

As he continued to eat his cereal and drink his coffee, The Beatles began their first _Ed Sullivan Show_ performance. The music wasn't bad, Steve mused. He could get used to it. That firs t song, whatever it was called, hit a little too close to home. He paused the film after the song ended. If she asked, he'd say he started it, but got a phone call and had to stop.

He had more important things to figure out right now. First things first, getting back into Bess's good graces. As much as he currently loathed Tony for putting him in that position the previous evening, the man did have a way with women. If anyone knew how to get him out of this predicament, it'd be Tony Stark, he thought before grabbing his phone out of his pocket and clicking on Tony's name in the contact list.

"_Captain, what is it, another technical question that your good queen can't answer?_"

Steve could tell Tony was annoyed. "Actually, no. I… I may have said something last night that upset her. I woke up and there was a note…"

"_Oh Jesus tapdancing Christ, what did you say?_"

Taking a deep breath, he recounted the events between when Tony left them by the motorcycle and when he fell asleep outside her bedroom door. "So, I think she's mad at me," he concluded with a whisper. Much to Steve's surprise, Tony's initial response was laughter. "How is this funny? She tried to quit!"

"_You obviously haven't covered women's lib and the bra burnings yet._"

Steve laid the coffee cup in the empty cereal bowl before walking back into the kitchen. "The…the what?"

"_Exactly. If this were any other woman, I'd strongly suggest some flowers and as heartfelt an apology as you could muster. As I'm sure you've noticed, you're not dealing with any other woman. Bess would probably throw the flowers back in your face and call bullshit on the apology._"

"So what do I do?" He placed the dishes gingerly in the sink before heading upstairs to begin his morning routine as Tony began to explain directions to a bakery over in Brooklyn that made a mean red velvet cupcake guaranteed to tame female wrath in just one bite.

* * *

Pulling up the parking brake lever, Bess turned off her Jeep and stepped out of the vehicle. She looked around for Steve's motorcycle, but couldn't see it. "Maybe he decided to explore some more," she dismissed before walking into the house. She plopped down on the sofa, tossing her Chinese takeout onto the coffee table.

She noticed the JFK biography and the note she'd left for him made it downstairs. He clearly started watching the DVD, judging by John Lennon's paused face still on the television screen. _We will have to start having lessons on remembering to turn off the technology…_ Running her fingers absentmindedly through her new short layered bob haircut, she decided that if Steve was in trouble, he'd call her.

After she spent half an hour flicking through the channels while she ate her sweet and sour chicken, she decided to take her makeup-free face and her new haircut upstairs for some _Law & Order: Special Victims Unit_ and a nap. After changing into a white tank top and grey sweatpants from her blue high school homecoming shirt and denim shorts, she crawled into the soft bed, turning the television in her room to the appropriate channel. She yawned heavily with a smile. _Getting a haircut takes a lot out of you_. She fell asleep almost before the opening credits ended.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized she'd fallen asleep on her back and slept through two entire episodes of her show. As she rolled over onto her right side to face the nightstand to check the clock, she saw a white box with a colorful sticker stating its place of origin – Betty Bakery in Brooklyn, the bakery with the red velvet cake to die for. Blinking herself fully awake, she noticed a cream colored piece of paper with "Bess" written on it in script reminiscent of Walt's handwriting sticking out of the lid of the box. She gently pulled the piece of paper over to her and unfolded it.

_Bess,_

_Like I said last night, there's no reason a fella ought to talk to a lady like I did. I'm sorry. What makes me even sadder is that you were so upset that you tried to quit over what happened. It makes me sick that my words were enough to drive you away. As you know, and your great-aunt told me years ago, I have no idea how to talk to women. This fact was clearly evidenced by last night. _

_Things have obviously changed since the last time I was in a bar with a woman was a very long time ago, not that that's an excuse for anything. I hope this can be an olive branch. Tony said you liked these, that they were the best around. I know he's probably part of the reason we're in this predicament in the first place. I've been kicking myself for agreeing to go with him last night, but the man can give some advice about women. _

_Enjoy the cupcake after you wake up. I'll be downstairs._

_Steve_

She couldn't help but laugh at the hastily drawn self-portrait of Steve with a frown. Smiling, she opened the box to find a red velvet cupcake the size of the palm of her hand with a perfectly applied swirl of cream cheese icing sitting on top. She threw off the blankets and walked downstairs, taking the cupcake box with her. Once she reached the kitchen, she could hear the thump of Steve's fists on the punching bag. She quickly grabbed two forks and went to join him outside. "I accept your olive branch, soldier, but only if you come join me," she called sweetly as she sat down on one of the old chairs. "Just so long as you don't think you can just go buy me a cupcake every time you do something wrong," she said with her mouth full of a fork full of cupcake.

Steve left the punching bag, wiped his forehead, and sat down in the chair opposite her. "Well, I don't exactly intend on making you mad a regular occurrence." He took the offered fork and tasted the cupcake. "Tony wasn't kidding about these cupcakes."

She looked down at the concrete patio and then back up to Steve. "I guess I should apologize as well, Steve. I…I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. It wasn't fair to you. You didn't need to know about my lack of a love life since college." She cleared her throat. "In fact, you probably think worse of me _after_ my little tirade than before."

He quickly shook his head as he quickly swallowed the too-big bite of cupcake. "I don't, actually. I'll admit that had to take a step back." A small, embarrassed smile crossed his face. He looked down at the concrete to hide the tinge of pink rising on his cheeks. "I've heard guys talk like that but never a da…lady," he corrected, remembering that "dame" was another word that she'd told him no one used anymore. Tilting his head to the side when he could bring himself to face her gaze again, he noticed her hair. "You changed your hair."

She ran her fingers through the short bob crinkled slightly by sleep with a smile. "It's actually been two years since I cut it. Being in the frozen tundra looking for you doesn't exactly leave a lot of time to pop over to the salon. After a while you get lazy."

"I guess it wouldn't. I don't remember there being _anything_ for miles and miles. Well, I guess someone could have built something in seventy years…"

"They didn't, trust me. Anyway, the crass talk…" She shrugged her shoulders. "Mom's uh…a little heavy on the 'I am woman hear me roar' women's lib thing. She's mellowed out some now, but she always taught my sister and I to speak our mind. It's gotten me into trouble more than once."

He shot her a questioning glance. "Women's lib? Does this have anything to do with burning…various pieces of undergarments?"

She stifled a laugh. "It's not taboo to say 'bra', you know. Have you been reading ahead?"

"Tony mentioned something about it last night."

She put her palm across her eyes, thumb over her left eye and index finger above her right. "Of course he did," she muttered into her palm. "If this week goes as planned, we should hit the Summer of Love, hippies, and second-wave feminism by the end of this week. All questions will be answered then. The latter of those three is what you need a healthy dose of before you make any attempts to get a girlfriend. Even the dumbest blonde I know appreciates _Roe v. Wade_." When he opened his mouth, most likely ask what _Roe v. Wade_ was, she shook her head. "I have _got_ to remember to stick to references you will get until we get you caught up."

"I knew it's either a court case or a boxing match. We're trying to get me a girlfriend?" The color that had been in his cheeks quickly drained away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** As always, I own nothing. If I did, I guarantee you I wouldn't be a secretary.

Big news: I changed my pen name from "**Jen Lennon**" to "**blown-transistor**". Do not adjust your sets. I've had the former pen name since I was 13, which makes it 11 years. I thought my name needed to grow up with my stories, haha. Just chime in and let me know that you're still getting the alerts you signed up for.

Special thanks to TrickPhotography and BreezeInMonochromeNight for listening, keeping me company at work, and being sounding boards.

Thanks to all the reviews and favorites. Y'all make my day.

Song for this chapter is "Shake It Out" by Florence + the Machine, but "Fixin' to Die Rag" by Country Joe McDonald and "Here For a Good Time" by George Strait make appearances. I've got a playlist for this story that consists of 160 songs. Do I need to share?

Jen

Chapter Eight – "Shake It Out"

(In which we finally see Angry Steve)

_And every demon wants his pound of flesh  
But I like to keep some things to myself  
I like to keep my issues strong  
It's always darkest before the dawn_

In the wake of their newfound understanding, Steve and Bess fell into a predictable routine. He'd wake up at 7:15 in the morning with surgical precision, start a full pot of coffee, and read more in the almost thousand page biography of John F. Kennedy she'd given him. Once he felt awake, he would go a few rounds with the punching bag before showering and dressing for the day. She'd eventually roll out of bed daily sometime between 9:45 and 10:30 in the morning and shuffle downstairs to drown herself in coffee, still warming from Steve's original pot. The drowning usually took place on the sofa where, after her first cup of coffee, Bess would either continue with the previous evening's discussion or start on a new year. When _she_ was sufficiently caffeinated for the day, she took her turn in the bathroom. After she would emerge, newly short hair blown dry, any number of things could happen to fill the rest of the day until dinner.

Dinner – Steve's favorite part of the day. He'd dropped enough hints that she'd make her fried chicken at least once a week. There was danger of a usurper for his favorite dish gnawing at him, though. The day he'd given her the cupcake, she'd shown him how to grill on the old charcoal grill on the patio. He quickly learned that in this modern era, grilling was a point of pride for the male of the species. As long as he swore not to reveal the recipes to anyone, the exception being if he ever had a son, she would show him how to make the best hamburgers and steaks he'd ever eat. He had blushed furiously at the thought of _him_ being a _father_, especially to someone other than a child created by he and Peggy, only to be swatted on the arm by Bess. "Don't blush at me like that! You're a sensitive artist who just happens to look like a fucking corn-fed Adonis. I personally heard three women while I got my hair cut offer to do things to you that'd make a two-bit hooker blush." He'd only blushed more. "There's a woman out there tailor-made for you, soldier. When you find her, y'all will make an entire baseball team of kids that'll break hearts from day one," she laughed as she lit the charcoal briquettes.

One day after her shower, she drove them into Manhattan and they walked around her alma mater, stopping for lunch at the sandwich shop down the block from the building where most of her history classes met. The middle-aged brunette at the counter hugged Bess and expressed her shock that she wasn't in here with a stack of books, highlighters, and her laptop working on the next paper on the socio-economic status of the classes in a various pre-Renaissance European country. The matron of the establishment glanced suggestively between Bess and Steve, only to be told that they were colleagues out for a working lunch. Of course, she didn't believe the pair.

Another day, Steve gave her the grand tour of Brooklyn from his motorcycle, eager to teach _her_ something. The tour started off on a sour note when he tried to show her Ebbets Field, but found himself staring at Ebbets Field Apartments instead. They stopped at the Naval Yard, which thankfully remained, where he reminisced about having seen the battleships _North Carolina_, _Iowa_, and _Missouri_ being built. The latter wasn't quite finished before he went down, but Bess found herself quick to remind him that he'd seen the skeleton of the ship on which Japan surrendered in person. He knew that he had captivated the history nut in her when she took his arm as they walked along the dock…with complete silence from her while he talked. They drove over to Sheepshead Bay where Steve was devastated to learn that the house he grew up in had long since been demolished to make way for a tacky Russian night club. Eager to forget the sadness, he sped off to a place where he'd always found inspiration to draw – the rose garden at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

That day, but specifically their time at the rose garden, became another memory that Steve knew he would never forget, something to hold onto if things got dark. It also became the day when he realized that for all her talk of finding him a girlfriend, Bess may have been subtly hinting at herself, a thought which he surprisingly realized he would definitely be amiable to…one day. _If she'd ever want to…_ The image of her now short copper-hued hair shining in the sun as she walked through the garden at his side barefoot, one hand stuck in the front pocket of her white shorts and holding her black flip flops in the other became one of his happiest. He'd heard of people "taking time to smell the roses", but she took the expression literally, stopping to smell most of the fragrant plants.

Before either one of them realized, they'd spent two hours roaming the soft grassy area talking about whatever thoughts crossed their minds. She burst out laughing when she learned that Peggy literally _took a shot_ at him. He learned that she only played a guitar in public once, and was so afraid of the audience's reaction to her performance that she dashed off the stage and hid between the water fountain and the wall and cried for thirty minutes until her friend found her. The smile she gave him when this realization occurred almost made him forget completely that she was his "teacher", not his date.

* * *

Two days after their trip to Brooklyn, Bess came to a realization in the laundry room off the kitchen while folding the warm clothes fresh out of the dryer. The thought in and of itself was not earth-shattering. The earth-shattering moment came when she realized it was true.

Putting a neatly folded pair of her blue jeans into the white plastic clothes basket, she reached back into the off-white dryer for the next article of clothing and pulled out a pair of Steve's khaki pants and found a ten dollar bill sticking out of one of the front pockets. She rolled her eyes and laid the bill on the ironing board to dry. _Do I not literally tell that boy to check his pockets before he puts shit in the hamper? One day, he's going to leave something in there that will stain everything else in the load. Then, he'll get to do his own laundry. _At the thought, an image of Steve rushing out of the small windowless room holding a shirt he'd burned a hole in with the iron, she shook her head and smiled. _It's probably best if I just keep doing the laundry_, she thought, moving on to the next article of clothing from the dryer – the SSR shirt he'd woken up and run around Times Square in. She shook the shirt before folding it, placing it on top of his pants.

_Besides, isn't walking into your room and finding fresh laundry folded on the bed right up there with mom's cooking on the "feels like home" scale, especially if the "home" you're comparing it to is closer to _Leave it to Beaver_ than… _She dropped her yellow sun dress as her mind put two and two together to make four. "Virginia Elizabeth Williams, you _like_ having someone to take care of," she whispered, covering her mouth as she laughed in disbelief.

Once she finished folding the clothes, she braced the basket against her hip and took it upstairs, noting that Steve wasn't yet back from his run. She deposited the modest pile of clothes onto his bed along with a post-it note attached to the soggy ten dollar bill.

_Next time, I'm going to think you're trying to leave me a tip. _

* * *

As promised, at the end of the week following what had become known as "the liberation", they reached the second half of the 1960's. Of course, there had to be a pit stop to watch some James Bond. If Sean Connery's portrayal of the iconic spy didn't somehow resonate with Steve, Bess reasoned, he might just end up doing his own laundry. What she didn't expect was a snort of laughter during _Goldfinger_ in a place she hadn't expected: "My dear girl, there are some things that just aren't done, such as drinking Dom Pérignon '53 above a temperature of thirty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. That's as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs!" She glanced disapprovingly over at him, stating that she thought he liked The Beatles. "I do, but there's something absolutely hilarious about the line." She shook her head with a smile, making him blush when she admitted unashamedly that she would do unspeakable things to the Scottish actor.

So far, things had gone over reasonably well in the discussion about the latter half of the decade. Steve blushed a lot during their quick discussion of bra burnings. He was still adjusting to the ideas of concept albums, synthesizers, and the sheer fact that a movie called _Doctor Strangelove or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb_ existed. Sensing he might be suffering from information overload, she grabbed his laptop and quickly clicked and typed things that he couldn't see. When she was done, she placed the computer in his lap, patted him on the head, and announced she was going to go work on dinner.

Warily, Steve pressed play on the video she brought up for him. He smiled when he realized she'd pulled up an old boxing match for him. "Introducing, from Louisville, Kentucky, he's wearing red trunks. He weighs 215. Undefeated in thirty-one bouts with twenty-five knockouts. Here is Muhammad Ali!"

Bess knew it was a bridge they had to cross, but she truly dreaded even bringing up the Vietnam protests. She pulled out the necessary ingredients for spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread and began to cook. As she cooked, she only hoped that when he learned that the winner of "The Fight of the Century" was so strongly against going to war in Vietnam, he'd been arrested for his beliefs and refusal to fight. Hopefully, the fight would keep him occupied long enough for her to figure out how to break it to him.

He looked down at the track bar at the bottom of the video. Realizing the fight was over an hour long, he decided that he'd just watch it later. Over the past three weeks, Steve came to realize that he liked being in the kitchen while she cooked. Sometimes he helped, other times he sat at the small table and savored the smell of the dish of the evening while she rattled off various things she deemed historically important. On top of that, there was just something about watching her move about the kitchen effortlessly, despite her protests that she could only cook a handful of things, comforted him. He just _felt _better.

"How can you give up on watching something called 'The Fight of the Century' after less than five minutes?" she asked with a laugh while shredding the lettuce.

He shrugged before leaning back in the chair. "I'll watch it later. For some reason, I like being in here when you cook."

She turned around and eyed him warily, but not so warily that she couldn't have a smile on her face. "Maybe you'll learn something and cook for me one day."

"Can I grill again?"

"Sure. I'll show you how to grill chicken this time." She returned to preparing the salad. "Muhammad Ali wins that fight."

"Now that I know who won, what's the use in watching it?" he groaned.

"Don't you want to know _why_ it got such an epic moniker?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shrug in agreement. "He's a cultural icon, but not just for what he did in sports. He gave a whole generation a reason to protest the war in Vietnam."

Steve rose from the chair, clearly confused. "Protest the war? Why would someone protest the war?"

_And so it begins. Dear lord, give me strength… _"A lot of reasons, Steve."

"Like what?" he asked with a hint of malice in his voice, daring her to answer.

She sighed heavily and began rolling the ground beef into meatballs. "The draft was unfairly administered. Heavy television news coverage brought the war into people's living rooms, debunking the 'glory of war' bullshit while bringing the public the news the government didn't want them to have. The war was basically a civil war between two different governments _within _Vietnam, therefore we shouldn't have ever gotten involved. There were civilian deaths that the government tried to ignore. Soldiers killed children! The fact that there was no formal declaration of war? Where do you want me to start?"

He rolled his eyes and reached into the fridge for a can of soda. "If you get drafted, you go. No questions asked."

_I guess that's where I'm starting._ "Unless you manage to make it over the border into Canada. There were no clear guidelines for exemptions at first. On top of that, the draft lottery statistically drafted more people with birthdays later in the year. A lot of the _kids_ they drafted were too young to vote or drink at the time, but they're expected to go kill people. There were all kinds of loopholes that people questioned how fair the draft was. I mean, if your daddy had connections, you could get out of it." Bess dropped the meatballs into the pan before washing her hands. "My dad has a doctorate degree. You want to know why?" she asked as she dried her hands.

"Is it relevant?" Steve spat.

"He was only sixteen when Jack died in Vietnam. He was scared to death of dying in some god-forsaken rice patty with someone yelling 'baby killer' at his funeral," she defended.

"And what do you think?" he asked, stepping close enough to her that she could see the anger in his eyes. "Do you agree with the protests?"

"My opinion is irrelevant. We're talking about something that happened forty years ago."

"Just answer. Would you have been out there yelling 'baby killer' with the rest of these…ungrateful…" he seethed, unable to finish his sentence.

"They weren't ungrateful. They wanted the troops to come home from a 'war' that should never have been fought in the first place. They didn't want any more bloodshed." She threw the spatula down on the counter.

"As a soldier, you go where you're sent. You don't question orders. It doesn't matter why you're there. You're there to do a job."

"But it does matter why!" she cried, stamping her foot on the linoleum. "You have to have a motivating factor to fight! There was no Pearl Harbor in Vietnam! _We_ just started dropping bombs! There were no 'glory of war' songs. The whole reason we were there was because some people in Washington thought that if one country fell into communism, everyone around it would, just like Eastern Europe after World War II. Shouldn't the type of government be up to the people, not someone ten thousand miles away trying to play Big Brother?" She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and flipped to the particular song she had in mind.

"_Well, come on all of you, big strong men, Uncle Sam needs your help again. He's got himself in a terrible jam way down yonder in Vietnam. So put down your books and pick up a gun, we're gonna have a whole lotta fun. And it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for? Don't ask me, I don't give a damn. Next stop is Vietnam; and it's five, six, seven, open up the pearly gates, well there ain't no time to wonder why. Whoopee! we're all gonna die._"

"What is _that_?" he asked.

"_Come on Wall Street, don't be slow, why man, this is war au-go-go. There's plenty good money to be made by supplying the Army with the tools of the trade. But just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb, they drop it on the Viet Cong._"

"Turn it off."

She shook her head, tousling the short red strands as she stepped away from the stove. "No."

"_Well, come on generals, let's move fast; your big chance has come at last. Now you can go out and get those reds 'cause the only good commie is the one that's dead. And you know that peace can only be won when we've blown 'em all to kingdom come._"

"You wanted to know, Steve. You wanted answers. Wasn't that what you told me after Peggy's funeral? Not everything you missed was fucking sunshine and roses. Want to know something else? My dad met my mom at a 'Students for Democratic Society' meeting. Their first date was a protest," she sneered. "Grandpa Williams was furious that for all that money he was spending on keeping his son in college, he had to go spit in his face and bring home a 'goddamned flower child girlfriend'."

"_Come on mothers throughout the land pack your boys off to Vietnam. Come on fathers, and don't hesitate to send your sons off before it's too late. And you can be the first ones in your block to have your boy come home in a box._"

He grit his teeth, the words clearly getting to him. His breathing became shallow, and he clenched his fists. Mercifully, the song ended. "_You_ have the nerve to play _that_ here in this house?" he whispered dangerously, stepping towards her.

At that moment, Bess saw a flash of something in Steve's eyes that scared her. She backed away from him slowly until her back collided with the handle on the old refrigerator as her heart hammered in her chest.

"Never play that again," Steve warned in a low growl as their faces almost touched, his hands touched the cool metal on either side of her shoulders to pin her in place. "Do you hear me?" Lips pressed into a thin line, he punched the fridge for effect.

She nodded. She didn't believe that he would hurt her, but damn if he wasn't physically intimidating. _And it's kinda hot…_ Before she could think or say anything else, she heard a _whoosh_ from the stove. She turned her head towards the sound and saw that the meatballs, forgotten in the heat of their "discussion", had caught on fire in the pan. Ducking out of his intimidating hold, she raced over to the stove, removed the pan from the burner and tossed it in the sink, running water to put out the flames. Once the flames were successfully extinguished and ensured that the pasta hadn't burnt, she slid ungracefully to the floor with her back propped up against the glass door of the stove as she dropped her head into her hands to try to lower her heart rate. "I'll never play that song again as long as you promise never to do _that_ again."

"I-I'm sorry. I…"

"It got heated," she laughed despite herself, remembering the flaming meatballs. "And you dented the fridge, big guy."

* * *

_Their shoes and her purse long forgotten, Steve and Bess walked barefoot through the soft grass of the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. Her shoulder-length red hair pulled back into a short ponytail, she shoved her right hand into the pocket of her shorts and took hold of his hand with her left one. With a wide smile on her face, she spun into his arms with the grace of a ballerina and brought her lips to his in a soul-searing kiss. _

_When Steve opened his eyes as the kiss ended, he realized he was no longer wearing his grey knit shirt and jeans. Instead, he donned his old Captain America uniform just as he had as Schmidt's plane hurtled towards the frozen wasteland below. Bess no longer stood in his arms, but was held against a man in a familiar set of black, green, and gold leather armor by a gold staff. _

"_Ah, the man out of time," the man taunted with a smile, "we meet again." The man's bright green eyes looked down at Bess's trembling form. "And I presume this to be your young plaything. Aren't you technically old enough to be her grandfather at least?"_

"_Leave her alone, Loki," Steve warned, balancing his shield as he prepared to throw it. "She had no part in the…"_

_The mystery man, now identified as Loki, sneered. "But can you ever truly love her more than the other one, Captain? You cannot split your heart. You never had a chance with the first one." He buried his long nose in her hair. "I can smell it on her. You've never touched her. Others have, but not you."_

"_Let her go," Steve warned again._

"_Now why is that, soldier? Could it be that you never let the other one go?" He waved the scepter, binding Bess in place with gold cords around her wrists, her hands behind her back. Waving the scepter a second time, a similarly bound figure appeared in front of the god of mischief. _

_Steve recognized the second figure instantly. His heart lurched as Peggy, as she'd been when he spoke to her last – in 1942._

"_Now is the time to choose." He caressed the cheeks of both women with a sly grin. "Whichever one you leave behind, I will kill."_

"_Oh god no," Steve uttered in a panicked whisper. _

"_Steve, I'm dead. Don't listen to him!" the young Peggy pleaded, her voice strained as when she begged him not to put the plane down. "Save my Virginia!"_

_Loki laughed. "I assure you, Captain Rogers, your Agent Carter is very much alive. Do you want her to die in front of you…again?"_

_For the first time, Bess spoke. "Steve, choose Aunt Peggy. Have the life you wanted. You'd never be happy with me. I'll always pale in comparison to her."_

"_Bess, I can't," he choked out. "Why are you doing this?"_

"_You've stalled long enough, soldier," Loki growled, throwing Peggy across the garden, straight into Steve's arms. "The choice is no longer yours to make." He pulled Bess in front of him. _

_Tears began to stream down Bess's pale cheeks. "Steve, I love—"_

Bess awoke from her recurring dream about her and Kelsey's imaginary roller derby team with a start, hearing a blood curdling scream from across the hall. Without even thinking, her sleep-addled mind forced her to jump out of the bed and run toward the source of the scream – Steve's room.

_Steve dropped Peggy and began to run towards Bess. "Don't hurt her! Let her go. I can't choose. Take me instead. Let them both go!"_

She froze in place, holding onto the doorframe. Looking in, she saw Steve tangled in the sheets, mumbling with a pained expression on his face.

"Don't hurt her! Let her go. I can't choose. Take me instead. Let them both go!" he screamed, arms flailing.

She felt her heart break as she heard him pleading with demons unknown. She raced over to the left side of the bed and sat down before applying gentle pressure on his shoulders in an attempt to wake him up.

_Loki laughed evilly. "But then I couldn't watch you die of agony."_

_Just as Steve pulled Bess out of Loki's grasp, he saw her face contort in pain. He looked down to see the tip of the scepter protruding from her chest as she gasped for air before slumping lifelessly into his arms._

Next thing she knew, she found herself pinned to the bed in Steve's protective grasp. "Steve, you're dreaming. Wake up," she gently commanded. When he didn't respond, she tried to wriggle away. The more she wriggled, the tighter his grasp became. Giving up, she managed to roll onto her back with her head on one of the pillows and despite his death grip on her waist, pulled him towards her so that his head rested on her shoulder.

"_Don't take so long to decide next time," Loki laughed before he disappeared. _

_Steve collapsed onto the soft grass, unable to hold back tears as he cradled Bess's lifeless body in his arms. He chanced a glance back towards Peggy, only to find a withered skeleton wearing the pale yellow dress she had been buried in._

Realizing he was crying in his sleep, she began rubbing his back gently with her right hand and her left curled around the back of his head, fingertips tangled in his blonde hair. As the tears continued to roll down his cheeks in sleep, she rested her cheek against his forehead and sighed. "This has got to be some nightmare, dude," Bess whispered. "It's just a dream. Let it go." She finally managed to untangle Steve from the blankets as best she could. Using a combination of her long toes and what hand movement she could spare, she pulled the bed sheets back over the both of them before falling into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Steve slowly began to wake up, not ready to open his eyes quite yet. He noted a scent of magnolia perfume that hadn't been there when he went to sleep. The scent smelled eerily like the perfume Bess recently purchased. The pillow under his head didn't quite feel like the one he fell asleep on, either. In fact, he didn't remember falling asleep with his arms around something. He was most definitely very comfortable, more comfortable than he ever remembered being, but something was clearly amiss.

He slowly opened his eyes, still in a tired haze, in an attempt to identify the smell and the unfamiliar pillow. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he realized what he was laying on, adrenaline taking the place of that morning jolt of coffee. His heart began to pound at the realization that he had slept on _Bess_. His head had been resting in between her, uh… in between her, uh… bosoms. When he tried to move away, he found his nose connecting with her sternum. In her sleep, she protectively pulled him back towards her. He pried her arms out from around him, falling onto the floor with a thud as he tried to get away.

The sound of his body making contact with the floor jarred Bess out of her sleep. She sat up quickly, clearly disoriented. "But mom we were in first place…" Blinking the crust off her eyelashes, she looked up to realize she was still in Steve's bed. Steve meanwhile, blatantly startled at her presence, looked up at her from the carpet as his face burned red. "Morning, sunshine," she muttered, rubbing her eyes with her shirt sleeves.

He stood up slowly, smoothing out the wrinkles in his pajama pants. "I woke up and you were in my bed." He looked down at the floor in an attempt to hide his shame.

She rubbed her brown eyes and yawned. "You were screaming in your sleep and woke me up. I came in to wake you up, but you bear-hugged me in your sleep so tightly I couldn't get away." Bess stared at his muscular form. "And I'm not strong enough to fight you off." Yawning again, she laid back down in the warm bed on her side facing him.

Face still flushed red, he mumbled an embarrassed apology.

She patted the spot he vacated on the soft striped sheets. "Lie back down and talk about it."

"I don't think…"

Her eyes closed again. "Steve," she began before another deep yawn interrupted her sleep-fogged thought. "Just do it. I'm too tired to do anything other than lay here on this comfortable mattress."

Obediently, he climbed back in the bed facing her, careful not to get too close. "Bad god with a magic stick." He shook his head at the memory of the horrible dream.

Slowly, her neurons began to fire and attempt to make connections to what he might be talking about. As she opened her eyes again, she stared into his big blue ones. "This wouldn't happen to be the stick that turned people into Loki's 'flying monkeys', would it?"

He looked at her skeptically. "I thought you were here with Peggy during…"

She smiled. "You think Tony didn't call everyone he knew laughing so hard he cried over 'the only pop culture reference the Capsicle understands'?" She rubbed her eyes again. "I got _that_ call at three in the morning."

Steve rolled his eyes as he sank back down into his real pillow. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Well, whatever you were dreaming about, you were begging for your own death and crying," she whispered, putting her hand on his arm reassuringly. "You know, there are problems that _you_ can't fix. Maybe if you talked to someone…"

"I'm fine," he insisted, sitting up, facing away from her, and letting his feet touch the floor. "It was just a bad dream."

"I'll say," she said with a groan as she pushed herself up onto her knees behind him. "Obviously you're not fine. At least talk with Tony or Banner. They were right there with you." When he didn't respond, she buried her face in his right shoulder blade and wrapped her arms around his chest. "There's no need to suffer in silence needlessly when there are people willing to help you." She paused to take in a deep breath. "The past month's been a shock for you, I know. I can only imagine what's going through your head. I mentioned the possibility about you talking to someone because I understand there are things that you wouldn't want to discuss with me, a complete stranger."

"I hardly think we're strangers, especially after basically seeing you in the buff last week and then waking up on top of you this morning," he whispered as his face threatened to color again. He let out a nervous laugh as he felt her grinning into his shirt.

"That's true," she said with a chuckle. "I wouldn't be carrying out my assignment if I didn't tell you there are people you can talk to if you need to."

He nodded. "Understood, but like I said, it was just a bad dream."

Before she could correct him, a song with a distinct country twang to the instrumentation began playing from her room. _"I ain't here for a long time. I'm here for a good time." _"That'd be me," she said, nearly face-planting on the floor as she tried to extricate herself from her position holding Steve. _"So bring on the sunshine, to hell with the red wine, pour me some moonshine. When I'm gone, put it in stone 'He left nothing behind'. I ain't here for a long time. I'm here for a good time."_

Steve flopped backwards onto the bed once he'd heard her accept the call. He landed on the pillow she apparently used the previous night, taking in the strange combination of coconuts and magnolia she left behind as he tried to listen to her conversation.

"She wants me to do _what_, Aaron?" Bess asked, wedging the phone awkwardly between her shoulder and face as she grabbed clean clothes to put on after her shower.

"_Grace wants you to be a bridesmaid, Bessie._"

"You may be my big brother, Crafton Aaron Williams, but if you fucking call me 'Bessie' and make me sound like one of grandpa's cows, I will beat your ass using that special agent training." She sat down on the corner of her bed.

_Bessie?_ Steve thought. _Wedding?_

"_Fine. _Virginia Elizabeth_, will you be a bridesmaid?_"

Bess smiled. "Of course I will, so long as the dresses aren't ugly."

"_They're not. I'll have her text you a picture and the details of where to go get it. Now, do you have a date to bring with you?_"

She froze. "Possibly. Why do you ask?"

"_Well, Grace's cousin will be going. He's single. I can set you…_"

"Oh god, it's not her cousin Marc is it?" She scrunched her face up, awaiting the inevitable blow. Aaron's fiancée, Grace, had a cousin Marc who had been harboring a crush on Bess since the engagement party a year and a half earlier.

"_You two seemed to hit it off so well at the engagement party!_"

"Uh, no, Aaron. You mistake him stalking me and talking my ear off about C++ programming for two hours for 'hitting it off'. There's a big difference." She quickly grabbed a scrap piece of paper and a pen, scribbling a message quickly. She ran back to Steve's doorway and thrust the paper into his hands.

He sat up and read the letter silently. He had no idea where it came from, but a small swell of hope rose in his chest at her hastily written note. "_Brother getting married July 22__nd__. Wants to set me up with bride's horrible cousin. Do me a favor and come with me as my date? I almost killed this guy previously. Name your price, Steve. I'll do anything._"

"_Well, do you have a date?_"

Still balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, she quickly dropped to her knees and folded her hands. "For the love of god, help me?" she mouthed. She breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded. "Yes. I do. Just got a text back from him. Marc will have to find another girl to talk to."

"_He'll be disappointed, but I'll tell him. Hey, sis, I've got another call beeping in, and it's a client. I've gotta go. I'll call you later and have Grace text you the stuff._"

"Love you, dumbass," she said with a smile.

"_Love you too, brat._"

Shoving the phone into her pajama pants pocket, Bess launched herself at Steve, almost knocking him down before throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much! You've just saved me from an evening of sure boredom."

He nudged her off his lap so she sat beside him. "I've been on my share of forced double dates, of course, I was always the 'horrible cousin' that nobody wanted to be with. No one wanted to be seen with the ninety pound weakling," he said with a sad smile. "You'd choose the 'horrible cousin' over him."

"I've seen the file." She rotated her body and rose to her knees.

"Mine?"

"What file did you think they sent me into the frozen north with? Aunt Peggy held onto it for years." She smiled.

"So you've seen…"

She nodded. "The super juice didn't change this." She tapped his temple. "If we'd pulled you as the 'ninety pound weakling' from the ice, you'd be just as eager to soak up everything I tell you and just as awkward around anything wearing a skirt," Bess said with a small laugh. "The only thing that super juice did was give this," she whispered as she tapped his temple again, "a new lease on life via a body that would give Hercules _and_ Adonis a run for their money." She smiled when he began to blush again. Hopping off the bed to make for the shower, she turned back to face him, quickly pressing a chaste kiss to his temple before exiting the room.

His face now a shade of bright red, Steve crawled back under the covers and pulled them over his head. Inwardly, he knew she was right. The "little guy", complete with all his fears, hopes, memories, and dreams still lived in his head. Nobody could take those away from him.

The more he thought about it, he realized his aspirations had changed. Despite his former physical state, he'd dreamed of one day having a family, fully aware of the astronomical chances of someone wanting him. Admittedly, the person he'd previously imagined having that family with was dead and buried. He'd dreamed of someone actually buying his art, although now, the "Captain America" thing had eliminated the _need_ to sell art.

Before he could lose himself farther in thought, he heard a chime from the bedside table. He reached out from under the covers, never removing his head from the warmth of the blankets, and pulled his phone back under the covers with him. His face formed a confused frown. Why in the world would Bess send him a text message from fifteen feet away? Hearing the shower water start, he opened the message.

_For the record, I think I would have enjoyed a date with the "little fella". Wouldn't be any need to wear high heels…ever. My feet might even thank me. By the way, if you're cooperative and we get through Vietnam this week, I'll take you to the movies. Keep an eye out for something you think looks good._

For a moment, he let himself dare to hope that being Bess's date to her brother's wedding would turn out for the best…for once. He closed his eyes and smiled. Maybe a fake date could turn into a real one… Maybe. She _did_ say to name his price…


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note is at the end, being as how it's a long one this time, heh. **

Chapter Nine – "Holy Touch"

_There was a line that I used to walk  
I used to cross it just to get them to talk  
But I'd regret it if I did or not  
'cause I hate both sides  
Heal me with your holy touch  
Heal me with your holy touch, oh baby  
Heal me with your holy  
Kick down the door and hold me  
Heal me with you holy touch_

Steve woke up with a start, gasping as he shot up out of the bed. He blinked several times trying to bring back the images from his dream. Every night since "the big one", he had _very_ vivid dreams. He noticed that they took on a "good dream then bad dream"pattern. The dream he'd recently awoken from was the latter. Not being able to remember the dreams frustrated him to no end.

The good ones, boy they had been _good_. They usually involved either Bess in various states of undress, Bess in varying stages of pregnancy, or Bess and Steve in a grassy backyard with two young, blonde children. The ones with Bess in various states of undress never failed to make him blush when he saw her for the first time in the morning. He simultaneously hated and enjoyed the idea of the two of them "fondue-ing", to put it mildly. He hated the thoughts coming in subconsciously, especially when they were both awake, yet he couldn't help but remember the dreams where she positively _glowed_ when playing with their dream-children or rubbed her pregnant stomach._ Well, there's only one to get pregnant…_

The last good dream he had slightly unnerved him. He'd been out in the back garden of the row house taking out his frustrations on the poor punching bag when a small voice startled him out of his concentration: "Can you teach me how to do that, daddy?" Steve looked down and saw a boy no more than five years old with a mop of blonde curls and green eyes peering up at him curiously. He could easily identify the source of the boy's blonde hair as Bess joined him outside with three glasses of lemonade. The green eyes were another matter. He hadn't known anyone in his family with that eye color, and he'd met Bess's parents and neither of them had green eyes, either. Shaking the thought from his head, he scooped the boy up in his arms and carried him over to the patio table where Bess waited with the drinks. As he sat down in the metal and plastic chair and accepted a glass of the cool liquid, the small boy looked up at him with his green eyes shining. "Daddy, Uncle Loki says you're out of time." After that, Steve woke up. "Uncle Loki?" he whispered to no one in particular as he rolled over and willed himself back to sleep.

He didn't think the bad ones ever got as bad as "the big one". He hadn't woken up with Bess in his bed holding him again, so either they weren't that bad or he just never woke her up again. Mercifully, the good ones were the only ones he completely remembered. The bad ones just left him with a sense of unease but no images.

* * *

A week after "the big one", Bess bounded down the carpeted stairs quickly, sliding on her white canvas shoes as she ran. She grabbed her purse and slung it across her chest, partially obscuring the writing on her orange tee shirt that read "Bruce Pearl Is My Homeboy".

Steve looked up from the pages of his latest assigned reading, The 1970s: American Popular Culture through History at the sound of her running through the house while making more noise than an airplane. He raised an eyebrow. "Going somewhere?"

"As a matter of fact I am. I'm going to lunch with Kelsey. You almost met her at the bar. The blonde?" Bess said quickly, hanging her sunglasses around her neck with the attached set of red Croakies.

_The one that had less on that night than you?_ "Ah," he replied nonchalantly with a nod.

"I'll be back in a few hours. I promise, this time there won't be any dancing on bar tops. Strictly lunch and typical girl plotting this time." She winked.

"Girl plotting? That sounds dangerous." He looked back down at the pages of his book.

"It might be dangerous, especially for you. If all goes as planned, this time next week, you'll be going on a date," she said with a giggle. "Keep readin', soldier. Relax, women love men in uniform." Not giving him an opportunity to protest, she ran out the door and hopped into her Jeep.

Steve laid the book face down on the sofa to hold his place, throwing his head against the backrest. "How am I supposed to be her date at a wedding when she's trying to fix me up with someone else?" He rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

Shoving her lime green sunglasses onto her face as she pulled away from the curb, Bess flipped on the radio to the classic rock station, pleased to find "Layla" already in full swing. "I tried to give you consolation when your old man had let you down. Like a fool, I fell in love with you, turned my whole world upside down." She began to sing along with the old familiar song, but almost as quick as she started, she stopped. After almost rear-ending the car in front of her, she shook her head. _Best just to get to the restaurant in one piece._

After finally finding the restaurant and parking, she made her way inside. She quickly located Kelsey, who stood out like a beacon with her bleach blonde hair and a bright pink tee shirt. Bess raised an eyebrow. "So this new boyfriend you texted me about? Do tell. Some of us are sex-starved from round the clock government work."

"I told you not to take that job! At least in grad school, you could have banged the hot professors or _something_." The blonde paused. She thought about waiting for her friend to respond, but realized there was an opportunity to gush about her new boy. "His name's Matthew, and he's thirty-two."

"Christ, he's eight years older than you!" Bess exclaimed, almost choking on the water the waitress had left for her. _You're one to talk. Steve's _sixty-eight _years older than you, technically. Stupid fucking technicalities. _

"At least I'm getting some," she teased before ordering her food. "And I have been getting some for two months."

"Kels, I need your help," Bess admitted once they'd finished eating their over-sized hamburgers, taking a sip of her after-lunch beer.

"Ah, now we get down to it. And what can the great Kelsey Brown do for you?" the girl quipped with a grin, drinking some more of her strawberry margarita.

Bess smiled. "The great Kelsey Brown can help me with a favor for a friend."

The blonde looked over at her friend skeptically. "I've got a boyfriend now, hon."

She rolled her eyes. "Not _that kind_ of favor, dumbass. Just listen."

Kelsey listened with rapt attention as Bess described the friend that needed the favor. Apparently, Bess met her new friend while working for the government. The friend, a male, had just been discharged from the Army after a long tour of duty and was trying to get back into the dating scene. This soldier, a former art student, hadn't been anything to look at physically before enlisting. While overseas, he'd worked tirelessly in his down time to improve himself. Now, he was back in the city with a new physique, but with a very limited ability to talk to the opposite sex. "So how did you befriend him if he doesn't know how to talk to girls?" Kelsey asked, abruptly interrupting Bess's story.

"We were assigned to work together on a project. He's alright talking to women in the workplace. Nobody gave him a thought before he got out of the service, so he never learned how to talk to women on a date," Bess said as she tried to justify the half-truth. _This would be so much easier if I could just come out and say that I really think Captain fucking America needs to get laid…_

"So where do I come in?" The blonde put her elbows on the table, propping up her chin with the palms of her hands.

"Do you know any single girls who'd be willing to go on a practice date with him? I'd ask you to do it since it's only for practice, but he saw you that night at the date auction. I think he'd be intimidated. Lord knows he avoids any mention of bars now," Bess lied, trying to think of something.

"Wait, are we talking about the hunk with the 'American as apple pie' face that came in with Tony Stark himself?" she asked in disbelief. "I know how _you_ know Tony Stark. I was there when he tried to take you home and when he came back in to pay the tab. How does _he_ know him?"

"Tony's done some consulting work for my office. They met there, I guess. I never stopped to ask."

"And you're coming to little ole me with this problem and not Tony Stark? I'm sure he could get Rocky there a date." Kelsey laughed as she took another sip of her drink.

"Tony Stark would hire a hooker. I need someone to help him learn what to do on a date, not…" Bess picked up her beer to have a drink, but quickly put it down with an exasperated sigh. "Can you help me or not?"

"How do you feel about him? Answer honestly and I'll help you. You've already told me you're taking him to Aaron's wedding." Kelsey leaned against the back of the booth, arms folded across her chest. "Remember, I always know when you're lying. Your accent changes."

Defeated, Bess stared into her beer for a moment before looking back up at her friend. "He's a brave, loyal, and devoted soldier that deserves all our gratitude for what he's done. I thought chivalry had truly died until I met him. He soaks up new information like a sponge. He's been borrowing almost every book I own. Borrowing from _Titanic_ here, if you think 'a woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets', you haven't tried to talk to him." She paused, choosing her next words carefully so as not to say more than she could afford to. "The one woman who did look his way… He served with her for a while, and then got reassigned. He waited years to see her again, only to find her on her death bed," she whispered, trying to blink away the tears that formed as the haunting words from the recording came flooding back to her.

Kelsey watched her friend try to hide tears with a sad smile. The bartender-turned-receptionist took pride in her ability to listen and sense what people tried to skirt around saying. "And you're afraid that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to live up to the memory of a dead woman?" She laughed softly and rolled her blue eyes when Bess looked up at her in shock and tried to protest. "You're in love with him. The sooner you admit that, the sooner you'll stop trying to set him up with someone else. If he's told you something that personal, I'd venture to say that he has some sort of feelings for you, too."

"Kels, I…" Bess stifled her own protest as she remembered the hurt feelings when he didn't ask her to go ride around while he explored. She remembered the plethora of wonderful feelings as he gave her the grand tour of Brooklyn while she had her hand in the crook of his elbow, making them look like a couple to those around them. She actually blushed at the sudden remembrance of holding him tightly during his nightmare, how right it felt to hold him.

"Yes?" she asked expectantly.

"I don't love this guy. What are you smoking?"

Kelsey burst out into a long peal of high pitched laughter. "You're delusional, positively delusional. No one talks about a man like that and doesn't love him, not even a little bit of puppy love."

"Kelsey, I don't…"

Kelsey bit back an excited smile after picking up on the falter in Bess's voice, knowing her tell. "I'm right, aren't I? You're in love with him." When Bess dropped her head onto the table and nodded against the cold wood of the table, she squealed in delight. "See, you don't need my help. _You_ take him out on a date."

Grabbing her beer quickly, she tipped the glass up and drained the remaining three quarters of the pint in one go.

"It's not that simple," Bess groaned.

"Of course it is," she said triumphantly.

Lunch completed, Bess and Kelsey parted ways. No sooner had Bess started the car, her phone started to ring. She rolled her eyes as she fumbled for the phone. Thanks to the special ringtone for this particular caller, the opening lyrics of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man", she was well aware who was calling. "Can I help you, Tony?"

"_Sound a little happier to talk to me, Queen Bess._"

She shut off the car. "Sorry. I just had lunch with a friend who clearly knows me better than I know myself. I swear she's psychic." She leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes.

"_I love those conversations. What'd she get you to admit that you'd been repressing?_"

"Nothing that I want to tell you," she snipped.

"_Touchy touchy. Listen, I was just calling to let you know that the apartment's repaired. Appliances are in place. It's ready for you to paint or for you to tell the painters to paint. Once it's painted, you and Spangles can get that IKEA furniture delivered and move in._"

"Let the painters paint it. And _please_ don't call him Spangles," she begged, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I swear he's got fucking Spidey-senses for when you do that. I come home and he's grumpy. I swear, he knows." She paused mid-thought. "Wait, what IKEA furniture?"

"_Pepper showed Spangles,_" Tony emphasized, undoubtedly grinning into the phone, "_how to shop online. He's got a whole bedroom suit for himself. Don't tell me he didn't tell you…_"

"No, he didn't, but… FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, PLEASE STOP CALLING HIM SPANGLES!" Bess shouted, banging on the steering wheel for effect.

"_I'm guessing your friend made you admit that you love someone by that tone. Oh god, you love Spangles, don't you? I knew leaving him alone with you would…_"

"I am so not discussing this with you, Anthony Stark," she said as she hung up the phone, once again starting the car, this time driving away.

"How did lunch go?" Steve called from his perch stretched out on the leather sofa when he heard the front door open.

"We're back to square one. She's no help," she replied, making a beeline for her room as she was unable to actually look at him. Once inside, she threw her purse down on the bed and proceeded to lay on the blue carpet with her hands folded across her stomach while she gazed up at the white ceiling. _Why is she always right? Like __always__. _

* * *

Three days later, Bess and Steve showed up at Stark Tower in old clothes armed with paintbrushes and tiny paint samples. Tony met them at the door with keys. Upon entering the apartment for the first time, the realization that she'd just been given a key to _an entire floor_ of Stark Tower hit Bess like a Mack truck, causing her to erupt into high pitched giggles and race into the first door she saw. Once she saw the tan tiled floor and marble tub, she continued to giggle and ran into the bedroom that adjoined it on the other end of the bathroom.

Steve looked over at Tony with a look of utter shock as the petite redhead dropped her purse in the middle of the massive bathroom and yelled "Mine!" before ripping open the paint cans and painting swatches of varying shades of yellow on the bathroom walls.

"Do you even want the rest of the tour?" Tony called into the expansive set of rooms she'd claimed.

"I'll look later!" she replied in a sing-song voice from the bathroom.

"She's like a kid in the candy store that is otherwise known as a girl's first place on her own. She'll calm down. How 'bout you, Rogers, you want the tour?"

Steve shifted his gaze into "Bess's bathroom" and then turned it back to Tony with a shrug. "Sure."

With a grin, Tony began leading him around the giant apartment like a child leading a parent through a toy store, pointing out all the new things. The kitchen with the attached laundry room had all new black appliances, while the walls were painted a light blueish-gray color that the dining room shared. The massive living room had a fireplace in the corner on the wall that bordered Bess's bathroom. Tony explained that the bathrooms all had heated tile floors, where the bedrooms and other rooms all had hardwood flooring.

Tony motioned for Steve to check out the bedroom across the massive living room from the suite Bess claimed, shaking his head with a smile. Tony held back in the empty living room while Steve poked his head into the bedroom, emitting an audible gasp when he realized this bedroom with its attached bathroom and walk in closet was almost the size of the apartment he grew up in. Tony smiled, realizing he'd done something good.

"So I just…" Steve stammered, pointing to the walls.

"Just paint little squares, see which colors you like," Tony directed.

* * *

Later that evening after the paint colors had been chosen for the apartment, Bess and Steve returned to the row house to begin packing for the move. Bess made the executive decision to begin with Walt's old office since she'd already packed up a good portion of the things on the shelves. The last remaining items that needed to be packed was Walt's massive desk. She entered the room ahead of Steve with a heavy sigh and a garbage bag.

"Where do you want me to take these boxes, Bess?" Steve asked, sensing some unease on her part.

She plopped down rather ungracefully into the old leather desk chair and tossed him a Sharpie from the desk caddy. "Write 'office' on them and just take them downstairs into the entrance way. I'll start cleaning out this desk," she muttered while she tied the string of the garbage bag to the arm of the chair.

Once he'd left the room to take the first load of boxes downstairs, she pulled out the first drawer. She found several things worth saving in amongst the various drawers, but the majority of scraps of paper were nothing worth saving. Opening the center drawer, she smiled at the memory of finding Steve's SSR file there accidentally shortly before joining SHIELD. She pulled several miscellaneous pieces of paper and junk out of the drawer as Steve came in two more times for more boxes.

Just as she was about to declare the desk empty and room completely cleaned out, her fingers caught a small velvet box at the back of the drawer. Furrowing her brow at a complete loss for what this trinket could be, she pulled it out to examine it. It appeared to be some sort of old ring box. Bess opened it cautiously, but her breath caught in her throat when she realized what the box contained. Tears stinging her eyes, she slid out of the chair and crawled under the desk, grateful that the front of the desk came down to the floor and would shield her from prying eyes. She pulled three silver rings out of the box: a man's wedding band, a woman's wedding band, and an engagement ring with medium-sized teardrop diamond nestled in the setting. Fingering the woman's wedding band, she caught sight of an inscription on the inside – "_WG + PC 1/7/1949_". She began to cry softly, hot tears streaming down her cheeks when she heard footsteps coming back into the room.

"Bess? Where are you?" Steve called, peering around the desk as he straightened his black tee shirt.

"I'm under here," a small voice responded, thick with tears.

He rounded the desk cautiously and couldn't help but smile when he saw Bess curled up in a small red-headed ball underneath the desk. He sat down on the floor next to the desk and offered her his hand to pull her out. When she refused, he tilted his head to the side and looked into her eyes, noting that she'd been crying. "What's in the box?"

"N-nothing," she lied, shoving the pieces of jewelry back into the box and snapping it shut.

"Something has taken you from a perfectly collected lady into a weeping…"

"I can't," she whispered. "Please don't."

"Given the fact that I'm pretty sure you're crying over something you found in that desk, I'm willing to bet that I can guess who the contents of that box belong or pertain to," Steve said, resting his callused hand on top of her small one as she clutched the box in the other. "I've made my peace with the ghosts of this place. You've done everything to help me so far. Tell me what's wrong." When she didn't respond, he picked her hand up and planted a kiss on her knuckles. "Please?"

Shuddering from the unexpected shock of the kiss to her hand, she managed to crawl out from under the desk before handing him the box and proceeding to drop her head onto his broad shoulder.

He opened it slowly, immediately understanding why she had been hesitant to show him the contents.

"They were married for fifty-seven years, Steve," she said quietly as she wiped tears from her cheeks. "I'm so scared that I'll never find that, especially if I stay with SHIELD. I started college wanting to be a history teacher, you know. I was applying for graduate school when…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "…suddenly SHIELD seemed like a better opportunity. See the world, they said. I saw the world not through the lens of MI-6 and James Bond, but I saw the frozen tundra. I finished my mission when I found you for her. If I leave now… I'm in too deep to leave you with god knows who."

The words "for her" did not escape his notice, instead he filed them away for later. "What about after you declare me 'caught up' or whatever it is you have to tell them? You could leave them and go back to school, right?"

"We both know that I could never fully leave," Bess said sadly, now idly tracing patterns on her pupil's forearm. "The next disaster hits, and I'm right back here." She smiled despite it all. "You won't get the reference, but it's just like Michael Corleone said in _The Godfather Part III_ after he realized his family name would never _not_ be associated with organized crime: 'Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in'," she quoted, her voice turning deep, husky, and of a false New York-Italian accent.

"You're right," Steve agreed with a laugh. "I have no idea." His face hardened in determination as he laid his head on top of hers. "I won't let them pull you back in if leaving is what you really want."

She tilted her head up to look at him. When she saw his smile and their eyes met, she thought for a fleeting second that time had slowed, _Matrix_ style. All that it lacked was the ability to see trails behind the bullets. Her throat suddenly went dry…and for some reason, had an insane urge to kiss that smile right off his face. Unless she was hallucinating, she saw his eyes on her lips and his head moving towards hers slowly…

"_Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? Can he walk at all, or if he moves will he fall?_"

"The fuck do you want now, Tony?" she screeched into the phone.

"_Are you busy?_"

Face beginning to flush, Steve stood up and made a quick exit.

"Not anymore I'm not," she groaned, banging her head into the desk drawer.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I own nothing. Nothing, do you hear me? Haha. This isn't my favorite chapter in the whole story, but it had to happen. Oh the almost-feels. Don't worry, more almost-feels and real feels will be coming soon! TrickPhotography and I have decided that clearly, the two of us just love to emotionally torture our characters. Special thanks to her for helping again!

Song for this chapter is "Holy Touch" by Foxy Shazam. Also mentioned is "Layla".

I had planned at this point to post a special 4th of July themed chapter, but circumstances have prevented me. There's still going to be one, but it will be late. Depending on how the muses direct me, the 4th of July may be in chapter 10, but if the muses get long winded, I may put it in 11. Please don't hate me.

I had a severe bout of writer's block yesterday when I was trying to finish this chapter. To clear my head, I did a rough outline of the final chapter and wrote the epilogue. A certain god of mischief may or may not have an appearance, doing what he does best of course. Review, and I will PM you a cruel teaser for the final chapter as a birthday present to Steve…and America.

I've got a playlist on YouTube that has some of the songs on my massive 160 song iTunes playlist for the soundtrack to this story. This list won't be finalized until the story is complete. I've gone ahead and put some songs on the list that will be featured in later chapters. Stay tuned. Some of the songs will never be featured, but hey… I DO WHAT I WANT. If you're interested, go to youtube dot com/ playlist ? list=PLB9733FA02009394D (just remove the spaces). If the link doesn't work, just let me know.

I don't know if anyone reading this (or in the Avengers fandom) is familiar with the TV show _M*A*S*H_, the show about the Korean War that aired back in the Seventies and Eighties and used that war to provide veiled commentary on Vietnam from time to time... Anyway, if you're interested in the show and want something to absolutely captivate your mind while you wait for me to update, go check out "The Wind and the Rain" by Bad Octopus. I'm her beta, and she never fails to either having me howling with laughter or sobbing into my job files. It's a novel length story (174k+ words, and she's not done). /end shameless promotion of other fandoms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** As always, let me preface this by saying that I do not own anything.

I had intended originally to make an event in this chapter take place during the "4th of July" themed chapter, which means what I have of that chapter will have to be rewritten. (I know it's going to be late when it comes. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.) I think this chapter will make up for the tardiness of "happy birthday Steve".

On another note, clearly bribing y'all with teasers helped! Ten reviews on the last chapter! if you review again, I'll toss in another teaser from the not-so-distant story future. Y'all make my day! 4,920 total hits, 38 favorites, and 84 alerts! To the anonymous reviewer from last chapter: I can't send you the teaser without knowing where to send it! The overall response to chapter nine is best illustrated by this picture: 24 dot media dot tumblr dot com / tumblr_m6q45c5fZ71qbzxl9o1_500 dot jpg (please remove spaces), which I must admit, was the response I was going for.

The song for this chapter is "The Times They Are A-Changin'" by Bob Dylan. Also making appearances are: "Yesterday Once More" by The Carpenters, and snippets from various songs from the first act of _Phantom of the Opera_.

A note about the songs from _Phantom_ before I let y'all loose on this chapter: for those that may not know, there was a recently released DVD called _Phantom of the Opera at the Royal Albert Hall_. It's a specially filmed version of the stage show for the twenty-fifth anniversary of the musical. This is what I have Bess watching later in the chapter. If some of the words don't seem quite right when you read them, they aren't. Some of the words were changed, much like there were edits made for the 2004 movie. I'm not defending or criticizing this. I'm just letting you know. It's a very good version of the musical. I've put a link to the performance of "Music of the Night" from that performance on the playlist for this story at youtube dot com/ playlist ? list=PLB9733FA02009394D (just remove the spaces). Gives me chills, dude.

Of course, I can't thank Miss TrickPhotography enough for all her help with this. We're still torturing our versions of Steve and our OC's, but it's...not a living since we can't get paid?

Next chapter, Tony uses JARVIS to severely screw with Steve's head while Bess is out getting groceries.

Chapter Ten – "The Times They Are A-Changin'"

_The line it is drawn_

_The curse it is cast  
The slow one now will later be fast  
As the present now will later be past  
The order is rapidly fadin'  
And the first one now will later be last  
For the times they are a-changin'…_

Over the next five days, neither Steve nor Bess ever made mention of the incident in Walt's old office. Bess remained terrified that she hallucinated the part where he promised to keep her out if she wanted up until when Tony called, interrupting the almost-kiss. Not that she would have minded kissing him…

Steve on the other hand reverted back to what she'd termed "awkward-Steve" not long after his arrival in her life. The day after the incident, she decided to show him _The Godfather_. Instead of letting her get comfortable tucked in close beside him as he allowed her to do during _Saving Private Ryan_, _Clueless_, _Casablanca_, and every other movie they'd watched together, he decided to sit in the rocking chair. She took the sudden change in seating in stride, taking the opportunity to stretch out on the sofa.

Maybe she genuinely liked him. Judging by the fact he was pretty sure she had been about to kiss him when her phone rang, she most likely did. Lord knows _he did_. The feeling scared him senseless. Before he'd gone down, he'd been in love with her _great-aunt_. Now, less than three months after being pulled from the ice, he began gradually developing the warm fuzzies when in close proximity to a certain little redhead. Peggy _did_ tell him to move on in no uncertain terms, just as she had. Could he ever do that and _not_ feel like he was wronging her?

* * *

Bess exhaled slowly after buckling her seat belt, looking up at the old row house from her Jeep one last time. June 8, 2012: the day would be burned into her memory just as much as the birthdays of her family members, the day she moved to New York, and the day her sister left her life. A horn honk from the moving van behind her brought her back to the present.

Steve pulled up beside her car door on his motorcycle, quickly peering inside to make sure the paintings and small things she took with her were fastened in. "Ready to go?" he asked into the open driver's side window, taking hold of the door for stability, motorcycle idling loudly.

She nodded quickly, trying to hide the tear quickly escaping down her cheek. "I'm ready as I'll ever be. Just saying goodbye," she replied in a hoarse whisper.

He smiled sadly, the feeling all too familiar. "Are you going to lead this elephant parade or am I?"

She held out her hand, motioning for him to go ahead. When she heard the roar of the motorcycle engine and saw Steve speed off in front of her, she pressed play on her stereo and began to sing along. "Come gather 'round people wherever you roam and admit that the waters around you have grown, and accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone…"

* * *

Bess stared across the new black and brown wood of the pub-style kitchen table at Steve, who was completely unaware of anything around him as he devoured the pizza she'd ordered for them. They'd barely said ten words to each other all day, an impressive feat considering they spent the majority of the day moving copious amounts of furniture and personal items. She shook her head and took the final bite of the piece of pepperoni pizza that rested on her paper plate. The more she thought about it, she realized that they hadn't spoken much since she found the wedding rings in the desk. Shaking it off, she threw her plate into the garbage can. "Ready to go put your furniture together? It's going to take a while, so we'd better get started."

Steve shoved the remainder of the piece of pizza he'd been gnawing on into his mouth and nodded.

"If you're not done eating…" she started, resting a hand reddened from the plethora of cardboard boxes digging into her hands all day on her hip.

He shook his head as he swallowed the excessively large bite, throwing away his plate before following her into his coffee-colored bedroom. Eying the various boxes containing his new unassembled furniture, he shot a pleading look at Bess. "I don't speak this language, whatever it is."

With a smile, she rotated the box containing his bed frame around. "It's Swedish, and they have instructions in English, too," she said softly, ripping the top of the box.

By the time they'd gotten the bed frame assembled an hour later, Bess determined that she was now at her wit's end. Despite her attempts to learn what might be bothering him, Steve had barely addressed her at all in the time she'd spent helping _him_. Once Steve moved the bed frame to its desired position on the wall, she thrust the tools back into his hands and kicked the still-packaged sheets towards him with a frustrated groan. "I can't help you if you won't _talk_ to me," she said with an exasperated groan as she stormed out of the room.

Now wearing a look of total shock, he dropped the tools and ran after her. "What was _that_ about?" Steve asked, panicking.

She stopped in her tracks and turn to face him, her bare feet squeaking on the new hardwood floors. "You've all of a sudden shut yourself up tighter than a goddamn clam, but you won't tell me why," Bess said in a strained whisper, obviously hurt. "I'm fairly certain I already know why, but I need to hear it from you." She reached out and touched his forearm, coated with dried sweat from the day's moving. "Please, Steve." Her pleading brown eyes met his blue ones. "Talk to me."

For a moment, he thought about giving in and just telling her that their almost-kiss was what was bothering him. After all, if he told her, they could just forget about it and move on. A small part of him (if he was honest with himself, it was actually the large part of him), sorely wanted to just pick her up and kiss her senseless, if he knew how. If he did just that, she'd never forgive him. "I-I can't. I'm sorry." He hung his head and stared at the floor.

Her lips pursed into a line, she nodded knowingly. "Then you're on your own, soldier." Turning on her heel, she continued her march across the living room that more closely resembled a minefield of cardboard boxes than a real living room, and into her suite. As she walked across the room, dodging boxes full of books, movies, and vinyl records, he followed her.

"Bess, I'm sorry that you're mad, but I just don't want to talk about it…" Even with his long stride, he had to rush to keep up with the angry redhead.

Once inside the spacious bathroom with the pale yellow walls, she turned to face him with a sarcastic smile, slamming the door so hard the frame vibrated. She slumped to the cold tile floor with her back against the white door. _What I wouldn't give for ten minutes with his punching bag right about now…_ Looking under the door, she could see Steve's bare feet standing at the door.

He sighed heavily as he stared at the door that had been slammed in his face. _Steve, you're an idiot. The only way out of this is to tell her what she wants…_

She quickly leapt up from the floor and walked determinedly into the bedroom, sifting through her box of towels until she found the fluffiest towel she owned and her lavender bubble bath before filling up the jacuzzi tub with warm water. While the tub filled with lavender scented suds, she fished around in her purse for her pair of earbuds. Once she found them, she stripped off her sweat and dust encrusted Atlanta Braves tee shirt and red cotton shorts and slid into the warm tub, eyes rolling back in her head when the jets turned on. She pushed the headphones into her ears before Karen Carpenter's voice began to fill her ears.

"_When I was young, I'd listen to the radio, waitin' for my favorite songs. When they played along, I'd sing along. It made me smile. Those were such happy times and not so long ago, how I wondered where they'd gone. But they're back again just like a long lost friend, all those songs I loved so well…_"

Despite the soothing Seventies soft rock that her mother used to sing while doing the dishes playing loudly in her ears, Bess sported a full-on pout.

"_When they get to the part where he's breakin' her heart, it can really make me cry just like before. It's yesterday once more…_"

While her music shuffled through several more songs, including several that never failed to make her smile, she washed the grime of the day off before draining the tub. With a yawn, she rifled through the boxes still full of her clothes until she found the desired pair of black and white polka dotted cotton pajama pants with a matching long sleeved button up shirt.

Once dressed, she pressed her ear to the bathroom door that lead back into the living room. She could hear some faint banging, presumably from Steve trying to put together another piece of the bedroom furniture. She shook her head and turned to go back into the bedroom. Flopping down on the bare mattress, she prayed sleep would come quickly after the long day.

* * *

Hearing some music from the living room, Steve raised his head off the stiff pillow to better listen in.

"_Sad to return the land we love threatened by Rome's far-reaching grasp. Tomorrow we shall break the chains of Rome. Tonight, rejoice, your army has come home._"

Bess slowly sipped on her whiskey, the one beverage other than water they had in the apartment as she watched the filmed stage show of _Phantom of the Opera_. She'd given up on sleep after laying in bed for hours with no promise of relief. _Damn soundproofing. I can't sleep in silence._ Before she moved to Queens, she couldn't sleep if things _weren't _silent. However, her years living with Peggy had made her grow accustomed to being lulled to sleep to the sounds of passing cars. Deciding that maybe alcohol could facilitate sleep, she'd wrapped herself in a blanket on the leather sofa from the row house and the familiar brown liquid to keep her warm.

"_Bid welcome to Hannibal's guests. The elephants of Carthage as guides on their conquering quest, Dido sends Hannibal's friends. Once more to my welcoming arms, my love returns in splendor. Once more to the sweetest of charms, my heart and soul surrender. The trumpeting elephants sound: hear Romans now and tremble. Hark to their step on the ground. Hear the drums. Hannibal comes!_"

Steve decided suddenly that if he couldn't fall asleep, he could at least find the source of the operatic music that was oddly soothing. Clad only in his blue plaid pajama pants and one of the plain white tee shirts he'd taken to sleeping in, he slowly made his way into the living room.

"_I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost._"

"Mind if I join you? Clearly I'm not the only one who can't sleep," he asked after clearing his throat.

Wrapping the thick fleece blanket around her tighter in an effort to disguise the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, she nodded and gestured with a move of her head to the spot beside her on the sofa.

"What are we watching?" He plopped down next to her, taking the offered bottle of Jack Daniels, noticing it was the same bottle Tony left on the kitchen counter for her by the silver smiley face he'd drawn on the black label. After he took a swig, he handed it back to her.

"_Phantom of the Opera at the Royal Albert Hall_. It's the stage production of the musical, only filmed, so it's not the movie version," she said in a whisper. "You've actually come in basically at the beginning."

"I-I still don't know what that is," Steve admitted, running a hand through his bed-tousled hair. "Does it have anything to do with the Lon Chaney picture?"

"They're both based on the same book, but there's a lot of stuff that's been changed." Bess's eyes locked on the television screen.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye. Remember me, every so often, promise me you'll try. On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me._"

The lights on the stage darkened to insinuate the passage of time and a costume change, captivating Steve almost as much as the girl who appeared no older than Bess possessing a set of vocal cords like that. Despite the warm fuzzies coming back because of Bess, he couldn't help but think of Peggy for a fleeting second. It seemed that certain aspects of art hadn't changed since he'd been gone. Chancing a glance her way, he smiled as he watched Bess silently mouth the words to the song.

"_And though it's clear, though it was always clear that this was never meant to be, if you happen to remember, stop and think of me. Think of August when the world was green. Don't think about the way things might have been. Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. Think of me. Please say you'll think of me whatever else you choose to do. There will never be a day when I won't think of you._"

When the song ended and a disembodied voice said "_Brava, brava, bravissima_," and began calling for Christine, Steve nudged Bess with his elbow. "What is this?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just keep watching."

"_Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he'd appear. Now, as I sing I can sense him, and I know he's here. Here in this room, he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me, he the unseen genius._"

"Is it a horror picture?" he prodded.

"It's a motherfucking musical, Steve!" she snapped before quickly apologizing. Noticing that he wasn't sitting in the chair by himself, she brought her left index finger to her chin in thought. "So you're willingly seeking my company now, willingly talking to me? Have you gotten over whatever it is that's been bugging you?"

_I don't know if I'll ever truly be 'over it'… _"No, not exactly, but in my inability to sleep, I've discovered that I was wrong to completely shut you out over my own internal conflict," he said, thankful that the only light in the room was coming from the overly large television that Stark had no doubt mounted above the corner fireplace before their arrival, else she would see his blush as he lifted his left arm to invite her next to him as he had done on most of their other movie viewing adventures.

With a smile, she popped out the footrest directly beneath her, snuggling into his side while he propped his tired feet up on the footrest beside hers. _Now that's at least a little more like it_. She laughed when Steve jumped at the sudden reappearance of the disembodied voice on the film.

"_Insolent boy, the slave of fashion, basking in your glory. Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!_"

"Angel, I hear you speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me. Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, master," she sang aloud off-key, poking her pupil in the ribs after every line, causing him to playfully swat at her with his free hand. She continued to sing as the man in the mask behind the mirror captivated him. "Mmm," she mumbled after taking a final swig of whiskey, "Pop culture fact for you so this evening isn't wasted. Longest running show on Broadway." She looked up at him. "If you're good, maybe I'll take you at some point."

"I seem to recall you promising to take me to the movies, too," he taunted while keeping one eye on the screen.

"And then you shut down on me." She rested her head on his chest, just above his heart, and pulled the blanket tighter around her. "Now, shush. This is one of the most famous parts of this." In that moment as the heavy organ music and techno-style drums began to play, she could only hear Kelsey's voice in her head: "_You're in love with him. The sooner you admit that, the sooner you'll stop trying to set him up with someone else. If he's told you something that personal, I'd venture to say that he has some sort of feelings for you, too_". She let out a sigh she hadn't known that she was holding, her breath causing tiny ripples over his shirt, causing his heart to beat faster.

"_Sing once again with me our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind._"

As the Phantom and Christine sang on the screen near the end of the song, Steve began clenching and unclenching his free fist. He was torn, not knowing what to do. Did he keep this hand to himself or did he wrap it around her and pull her close, thereby betraying his feelings?

"_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently, the senses abandon their defenses. Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light, and listen to the music of the night._"

Despite the fact that he couldn't possibly get drunk, the thought of something to calm his hammering heart seemed comforting. He took the whiskey bottle from its resting place on the floor at his feet and downed a rather large gulp.

"_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before. Softly, deftly, music shall surround you. Hear it, feel it, closing in around you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness which you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night._"

He realized when he could feel her jaw moving against his chest while undoubtedly mouthing the words to the song that liquid courage couldn't help him now. When she threw her left arm across his stomach and began to absentmindedly rub the soft cotton of his shirt by his bottom rib on his right side between her fingers, he knew he was lost. As the young girl, clearly lost in a state of bliss, threw her head back onto the masked man's shoulder as he sang into her ear, Steve knew he would have to tell her.

"_Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be. Only then, can you belong to me._"

Sensing a pair of eyes on her, she lifted her head and sought out his gaze in the dim light. "Are you alright?" she asked, her hand still holding his tee shirt.

Steve cleared his throat, finally allowing himself to look into her dark eyes. "Have you ever found yourself wanting something that you thought you'd never want, only to realize if you reach out and take it, you might…" He paused to take a deep breath. "You might destroy someone else's chance at happiness, someone that above anyone else, you want to be happy?" he whispered.

Bess scrunched her face up in confusion. "I don't think I follow you all the way, Steve. Maybe you should just come right out and tell me."

"Bess, I…" He placed the square bottle onto the coffee table as he searched carefully for his next words, refusing to screw _this_ up. "I've been so silent and avoiding you for the past couple of days because I found that it's the only way to keep myself from picking up where we left off when Tony called." She opened her mouth to say something, hopefully an open invitation for him to kiss her senseless and ask her to be his girl, but he raised a hand to stop her. "I want to so badly it's almost painful, but I can't."

"Why not? Is this about Peggy? I'm sorry I'm not her…" Her line of questioning was stopped by a calloused thumb and index finger pinching her lips together.

Wrapping his arms around her completely, he dropped his forehead so it touched hers. "Don't you _ever_ be sorry that you aren't her, even if this was about her, which it's not."

"Then what is it about?" she whispered, closing her eyes to brace herself for rejection.

"If I... If we do this, if we pick up where we left off and you want to be my girl, you'll never be able to get out of SHIELD like you said you wanted as long as we're together. I'll bring more stress into your life. As soon as Fury finds out, and he will, he'll never let you leave. You'll know even more. You'll be _involved_, Bess. I can't be selfish and ask you to give your future up for a kiss that I can guarantee you won't be any count and for someone who still doesn't know how to talk to women," he admitted softly, a lone tear making its way down from his blue eyes.

She opened her eyes and lifted his square chin with a finger. "I'd say you just made great strides in the 'speaking to women' department. As for the kiss, well, you only get better for practice." She smiled. "And as for the rest of that… Sometimes the best things in life are worth a little risk, wouldn't you say?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. No words would even come to the front of his mind. Taking her question as an invitation, he decided to act. For first time in his life, Steve Rogers initiated a kiss. He could feel her smiling against his lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, shedding the warm blanket as both of them forgot the movie playing in the background entirely.

The awkward angle hurting the under-utilized muscles on her left side, Bess decided to take matters into her own hands. Without breaking the kiss, she raised up and pivoted on her right knee, throwing her left leg onto the other side of his lap so that she straddled him.

The sensation of her tongue ghosting across his upper lip begging entrance into his mouth followed by his shameless groan against her mouth made him realize that his hands had fallen from the middle of her back outside a blanket to the lower parts of her hips, causing him to abruptly break the kiss and pull his hands back to his sides. "I'm s-sorry…"

"Why in the world are _you_ sorry?" Bess asked with a breathy laugh as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm the one practically sitting in your lap. If you're worrying about your hands, don't. Be as handsy as you want, Steve. I'm going to let you take this at whatever pace you think is comfortable. I'm not going to initiate anything other than this next ki…"

Steve brought her face up to meet his. "This?" he questioned hopefully, eyes gleaming in the light of the television.

"You're not the best kisser, but I'm sure we can fix that tonight. The privilege of continuing to do that's enough to overcome the risk of never being able to leave Fury's one good eye," she said softly before pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The bubble of cautious joy that had been slowly rising in his chest threatened to burst as his smile took over his entire face and his heart continued to race. "So you'll do it, you'll…" His throat suddenly felt drier than the desert. "B-be my girl?" he whispered as the bubble of joy exploded, rendering him almost speechless.

She nodded, her mussed hair bouncing along with her face. "Now shut up and kiss me again."

"Yes ma'am," he muttered against her lips as she grabbed his face and his lips met hers in a passionate kiss, smiling despite himself when she put his hands on her hips.

"_Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!_"

She removed one hand from his face and grabbed the remote, swiftly turning off the DVD.

"Now you know why I couldn't sleep," Steve managed to squeeze out between pants when they finally came up for air. "Why can't you sleep?"

Bess smiled as she struggled to catch her breath. "Too quiet. Think Tony soundproofed walls," she replied in fragmented sentences before crashing her lips back into his.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** I'm just playing with Marvel's toys. I don't own anything.

This chapter is for garnet86 who left me the 50th review. This is now officially the most alerted, reviewed, and favorited story I've ever written. I'm so happy. I saw that there were 52 reviews and had a Sally Field "They like me! They really, really like me!" moment. Free virtual Cap shield cookies and shots of whiskey to everyone! The response to this story's been overwhelming.

As always, many thanks to TrickPhotography for all her help with this. Without her, my character torture wouldn't be as tension filled.

I don't have an actual plot teaser ready to go like I've had with previous chapters, but let's just say the long awaited 4th of July / "Happy birthday, Steve" chapter will be next. I've started working on it, and I am SO EXCITED FOR IT! I'm almost giddy. I can send you a teaser of a _flashback, _but not of actual story content if you review. I love bribery.

Brace yourselves, there's some serious action coming down the pike after a road trip (on which Steve experiences a bachelorette party and a wedding). I had most of the next chapter already written, but due to a plot bunny that came hopping along (see the end of chapter nine and the entirety of chapter ten, haha), things got…rearranged. I regret nothing. This chapter may be shorter than previous ones, but rest assured, the next couple are going to be long.

Quick note here. There is a flashback in this chapter that may make some of you raise an eyebrow and go "Huh? But earlier she said something else was the reason for this…". That's intentional. All will be explained, dear readers. Bear with me.

I've made a Tumblr for this story, memory-lane-story dot tumblr dot com. As always, there is the YouTube playlist. The link is in a previous chapter.

Song for this chapter is "Drive By" by Train. The other song that's mentioned, y'all should recognize immediately.

Chapter Eleven – "Drive By"

_Just a shy guy looking for a two ply _

_Hefty bag to hold my love _

For once, Steve _didn't_ wake up at 7:15 sharp. Clearly this time, his conscious told his subconscious to go to hell and stayed asleep. When he did wake up, he wrote what he saw off as a dream. He'd actually dreamed this scenario before. This couldn't be happening. He reached up and pinched himself on the cheek. Surely the dream would end when the pinch didn't hurt.

But the pinch hurt. And he wasn't dreaming.

He mouthed a silent "thank you" to his crisp white ceiling and smiled at the sight in front of him. Bess lay on her left side facing him, her polka dotted pajamas that seemed to be a sexier form of the pajamas people wore before the war rumpled from sleep as the top button threatened to slip out of its hole. Her left arm was curled up under the pillow as she smiled softly in her sleep. He reached over and tucked a piece of copper hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear with a contented sigh. Admittedly, this was where he _wanted_ things to end up when he finally told her what had been eating at him, but it wasn't what he _expected_.

"_So you can't sleep because it's _too quiet_?" he asked when they realized that they'd have to take a slightly longer breath of air this time._

"_You're from the big city. Tell me that you didn't learn to fall asleep with the sounds of passing cars and cats meowing in an alley," she replied. Her thighs screamed from prolonged use, so she maneuvered so that she sat squarely in Steve's lap, her hips perpendicular to his while her legs hung off to the side by his right knee. _

_He groaned softly at the realization that the sudden shift had awoken a certain part of his anatomy. "It's all I ever knew," he said with a raspy whisper, trying to ignore the problem. She sat just close enough to his knees that she might not notice._

_She chuckled softly. "No makeup, pajamas that I usually only wear when I'm driven by hormones to down entire gallons of ice cream, and bed head…and I still inspire that kind of a reaction? I'm flattered. I shudder to think what'll happen when I'm actually trying to look nice." Bess leaned up and kissed his jaw._

_Steve swallowed hard as he closed his eyes and tried to will the erection away. "That is most definitely not helping the situation."_

Bess shifted in her sleep, snapping Steve out of his reminiscing. Her smile faded as her brow began to furrow, clearly dreaming of something not so pleasant. Quickly, he rolled over onto his back and pulled her close. She instinctively snuggled into his chest, bringing a smile to his face. He looked down at the petite redhead and laughed softly. She agreed to be _his girl_. If only Bucky could see him now. _He _had a _girl_.

Last night, she'd offered to take care of his…problem, but only at his go-ahead. In fact, she'd handed him the reins of the entire relationship. He would have to initiate everything. She'd issued him a challenge, and he wasn't sure how to meet it. Maybe he should have let her go ahead with her original offer last night instead of inviting her to curl up in a more comfortable position than their place on the sofa…

"I can hear the wheels in your head turning, Steve," Bess whispered, voice thick with sleep as she shielded her eyes from the sunlight streaming into his bedroom. "Stop thinking so loudly and go back to sleep. I don't even know what time it is, but it's too early."

Steve laughed softly before kissing her on the forehead. "I was just thinking…"

"The current time is 8:27 am on Saturday, June the ninth," JARVIS announced, causing both Bess and Steve to jump. "Good morning Agent Williams, Captain Rogers."

She moaned and wiped the sleep from her eyes with her shirt sleeve. "JARVIS, I'm in my pajamas half asleep. We can skip the formalities."

"Yes ma'am."

Steve cocked his head to the side and tried to pout as he leaned over her, but couldn't keep a straight face. "So he gets to call you 'ma'am', but if I do, you'll make me listen to the entire story of the Hundred Years' War?"

"He is a computer. He's programmed to call me 'ma'am'," she said with a laugh before stretching up into his kiss.

* * *

_Hands clasped together in front of her face, Bess offered a silent prayer as she stared at the gradually shrinking block of ice through the observation window. He'd made it this long and this far alive. She prayed to whatever deity was up there and listening that both her great-aunt and her long-lost soldier would both live long enough to have their reunion. _

_Three men in HAZMAT suits moved in a flurry of activity around the super-soldier covered in ice. The block was considerably smaller than it had been, but melting it slowly seemed to be the best option for defrosting Captain America. _

_She jumped when she felt a hand settle on her left shoulder. Spinning around, she breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a friendly face. "Agent Coulson," she greeted with a smile. _

"_You've really done it. You found him," the older man said in awe as he stepped up beside her to peer into the observation window. "I didn't believe it when people started whispering earlier." He turned to look down at the young agent. "Does she know?"_

_Bess shook her head. "No. Director Fury said not to tell her. On top of that, you give me too much credit. The Russian oil team actually found him. They called it in. NOAA responded thinking it was one of their weather satellites. When it wasn't theirs, they called the Army. When the Army cut a hole in the top of the ship and saw what was inside, _then_ the called SHIELD. Gotta love how agencies pass the buck…" She paused mid thought as one of the men in the HAZMAT suits brushed ice particles out of Captain Rogers's sandy hair. "You might want to get those trading cards out of their cases just in case he wakes up, sir," she teased. _

"_My goodness, Her Royal Highness did it," the unmistakable voice of Tony Stark called across the room. "You found the Capsicle!"_

_Bess rolled her eyes as she rolled her long red hair up into a tight bun on top of her head. "A Russian oil team…"_

_The billionaire held up his hand to stop her protest. "Your team was working less than ten miles away. You would have found him within the week," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He stepped up to the window and stood to the right of the small agent who was finally beginning to joke around with him after almost two years of working for SHIELD. _

"_But I didn't find him, Tony," she admitted sadly after the other agent left her side to take a phone call. _

"_Give yourself fifty percent of the credit. It's not your fault someone kicked the exhaust vent on the ship you've been searching the frozen tundra for. Give my dad and Peggy another forty-seven percent and the change to the Russians," he quipped, folding his arms over his chest, looking at the man his father used to tell him stories about. _

"_Why do I get more than your dad and Peggy?" Bess asked in a whisper, searching the unconscious soldier for any sign of life as the doctors began to cut away his uniform._

_Tony cracked his knuckles and began to pick at an imaginary stain on his grey tee shirt. "You haven't seen the Tower yet, and I believe I owe you a congratulatory drink." He didn't appear to have heard a single word she said. _

"_Tony, I need to be here."_

"_Bullshit. You need something to warm you up. You look about as cold as he is. Besides, these white walls are enough to drive anyone insane." When she didn't budge except to wrap her black cable-knit sweater tighter around her tiny frame, Tony grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out to his car. _

"_What if he wakes up? I need to be…" She finally wriggled out of his grasp and stood with her hands on her hips. _

"_Then he can come over and drink with us, not that it'll do him any good." He started the car when Bess gave up and climbed in the passenger seat. The drive to the almost-complete Stark Tower was made in complete silence, as was the ride in the glass elevator up to the massive living space. _

_She climbed onto one of the stools in front of the large bar, dropping her forehead down on the dark granite on top as she waited for Tony to pour her a drink. _

"_You get more credit than my father and Peggy because you put your life on hold to give a dying woman closure _voluntarily_," he said sadly, sliding a square tumbler halfway full of deep brown liquid. "I keep a bottle of Jack here just for you, you know."_

"_You're too good to me, Tony," she said with a sad smile before downing the contents of the glass. "I only hope that Fury'll let her see him before she goes. Doctor gave her less than a month last week."_

_He moved from behind the bar and sat down on the stool beside her. In an entirely "un-Tony" fashion, he let her rest her head on his shoulder. "What are you going to do when she goes?" When he heard her sniffle, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "The entire reason you joined this three-ring circus was to find him for her. You've done that. You don't owe her anything else. Re-apply for grad school."_

_As a tear began to roll down her cheek, she sighed as she wiped the tear away with her sweater sleeve. "I don't think it's that simple, Tony. I wanted to hand in my resignation as soon as I found out he was alive, but when Fury crushed my phone with his boot… I know too much."_

"_Too much about a war almost seven hundred years old that no one but you really cares about? Yes. I'd say you know far too much about that." He smiled and shook her shoulder, trying to cheer her up._

"_I could only go to school and live nearby without going into more debt if I kept a SHIELD-level paycheck. It's too expensive to live on this overpopulated rock."_

_Tony nodded in agreement with her sentiment, despite the fact that he'd never met a price tag he couldn't afford. "I don't want to ever reproduce if there's no chance that they'll be able to annoy you in a classroom in eighteen years."_

"_I don't think the world could handle your progeny. I love kids, but I can't promise that I won't kill yours," she said with a laugh, shielding her eye from the bright glow of the arc reactor in his chest. _

"_Well, could you promise if I gave you one of the apartments here?"_

_She jerked her head up, her brown eyes meeting his. "You can't be serious! You can't give me some of the most expensive real estate in Manhattan!"_

"_It's mine to give, isn't it?" He propped his chin up in his hand on the bar. "They gave Peggy a month? Take a month to decide. I can't have _all_ my neighbors be stuffy farts that'll complain about Iron Man coming in and out at all hours. Even if you don't go back to school, take it as a contingency so you have somewhere to go after…" _She's gone_, he didn't say it. "At least think about it, Good Queen Bess."_

* * *

_God damn, living with someone with a super-human metabolism gets heavy_. Bess wedged herself and her purse, along with the six grocery bags on each arm into the elevator. As soon as the doors began to shut, her phone began to play the chorus of her favorite George Strait song. She rolled her brown eyes and carefully fished it out of her back pocket. "Steve, I know you're hungry. The groceries are on the way. I'm in the…"

"I don't really care about the food right now," he said with panic in his voice. "Something's wrong with my phone, Bess. The little beeps and bells aren't the beeps and bells that you set anymore."

_You have got to be fucking kidding me right now. _"Flip the little switch to put it on vibrate, and I'll be up in just a second, ok?" She heard him moving and fumbling with the phone.

"Okay done," he announced, sounding slightly relieved. "And you can fix it?"

"Yes Steve. See you in a second." She ended the call and maneuvered the phone back into her pocket as the elevator doors opened again. Stepping out, she swore in a pained whisper. The keys were in her purse beneath all the shopping bags, the bags that at present were sticking to her legs and making her denim shorts ride up further on her thighs. She shuffled up to the white door and delivered a handful of swift kicks to the bottom of the door.

"You're back! Now you can fix the…" he began after throwing open the door.

"I can't fix shit as long as I'm more laden down than a pack mule," she grumbled before transferring the bags from her left arm onto his, wincing at the red indentations striping her forearm. "Thank god. Next time, you're coming with me. This shit's heavy." Bess lifted the remaining bags onto the grey granite counter top next to the refrigerator. "Now, what's wrong with your phone?" she asked as she began putting the perishables into the fridge.

Steve pulled the phone from his pocket and switched the sound back on. "Remember how you set all the alerts and the ringer?" When she nodded, he continued. "Well, those sounds aren't playing anymore. Completely different ones are playing now for every different thing. I don't know how to change them. They just appeared."

Shutting the door to the fridge, she took the phone from him. She pulled hers out of her pocket and dialed Steve's after taking it off the vibrate setting. When she heard the offending sound, she was forced to bite back laughter before hanging up on her end.

"_Who will campaign door to door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America from Hoboken to Spokane? The Star Spangled Man with a Plan!_"

"You didn't change this did you?" she asked, still trying not to laugh at his obvious distress. She scrolled through the menu to get to the settings for the ringer, only to find the phone screen suddenly frozen.

"No!" he shouted a little louder than he should have, face flushed red from a song he last heard in Peggy's presence. "I don't know how! You never showed me, and I didn't ask because I'm fine with what you put on there!" He covered his freshly shaven face with his hands. "Did you change it last night or something?"

"No!" she quickly denied. "Even if I wanted to change it, I wouldn't know where to find that song in a format that…" She stopped abruptly and handed Steve back his phone after pushing a few buttons. "Go downstairs and tell Tony Stark that if he doesn't un-hack your phone and change your settings back, I'll call Pepper," she threatened with a smile.

He cocked his head to the side, searching for her reasoning. "How do you know he had anything to do with it? He hasn't been near this phone."

"Your phone is hooked to the internet. He used a computer." She looked up at the ceiling. "JARVIS?"

"Yes ma'am?" the calming British-accented voice responded.

"Can you please tell Mister Stark that Captain Rogers is coming down to see him? If he doesn't fix his phone, I will play my ace in the hole."

"Yes ma'am."

Just as Steve was about to go out the door, Tony's voice began talking from the ceiling, clearly under the impression that Steve had already gone. "You're going to call Pepper over me screwing with Spangles' phone? That's low, Bess."

He angrily crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed, and opened his mouth to protest the annoying nickname.

She quickly motioned for Steve to stay put and be quiet. "It's really not funny, Tony. I think you scared him half to death. And seriously, what have I told you about calling him Spangles?"

Tony began to rant, clearly perturbed. "He just needs to loosen up! The sooner you get him a girlfriend who'll make it so he can't capture unicorns anymore, the better. He's wound up tighter than a…"

"JARVIS, end call," Bess commanded, cutting Tony's voice off.

Steve raised a sandy eyebrow. "I can do a lot of things, but capturing unicorns? What does that even mean?"

_I am going to _kill _Tony. _She covered her face with her hands and just shook her head. "There is an old fable about only virgins being able to capture unicorns," she muttered into her hands. When she took her hands away from her face, she saw him on the floor with his back against the island.

"That used to be something to be proud of," he said sadly, staring at the hardwood floor while absentmindedly picking at a piece of skin on the palm of his left hand.

Bess slid down to join him on the floor. She took his left hand in hers and intertwined her fingers with his before laying her head on his shoulder. She sighed heavily, bracing herself to begin her story. "I wish I was proud of my first time. My senior year of high school, my boyfriend at the time said we'd be together forever if he could be my first. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do. I don't know whether I cried harder when I tried to wash it all away later after he told the whole school or when he left me the next day," she whispered, wincing at the painful memory. "Tony's being a jackass. Don't let him get to you."

Steve wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head. Was _this_, the fact that she'd been pressured, the reason she insisted on him controlling the reins of their fledgling relationship?

…And why did he have an uncontrollable urge to slam this fella's head into a brick wall?


	12. Chapter 12

Author's notes are at the end.

Chapter 12 – "New York Groove"

_In the back of a Cadillac with a lady by my side  
Tell you where I'll be, stop at Third and Forty-Three  
Dance into the night  
It's gonna be ecstasy  
This day was made for me._

Things progressed as well as could be expected for Steve and Bess over the next couple of weeks. The "bad dreams" part of Steve's "good dream bad dream" pattern had all but faded away. Without hesitation, he firmly credited Bess's willingness to turn herself into his personal teddy bear every night for this happy development.

A few days after they'd moved in, a large box arrived at the door. Steve effortlessly moved the heavy mystery package inside, only to have Bess almost bowl him over to get to it like a child on Christmas. He could only watch as she tore the package apparently from her parents apart eagerly and victoriously lifted a very old copy of The Hobbit. His mouth fell open as she single handedly finished filling up the majority of one of the massive bookcases (the one that had been dubbed "hers") lining one wall of the living room with books from her high school and college careers.

She'd finally come through on her promise to take him to the movies a week into their relationship. He hadn't been happy that she demanded he wear a tee shirt instead of his customary button down and a hat in an effort to make sure no one recognized him from the television footage. Despite the fact that they'd successfully navigated to the end of the Vietnam War, Bess thought that for his first foray into a modern movie theater, it might be best to include a touch of the familiar. After Steve gaped at the ticket prices, he joked that his former self could have used the large popcorn bucket as a bathtub. Mid-film, he leaned over and remarked that this "Huntsman" looked remarkably like the Norse god of thunder, causing her to almost shoot soda out of her nose.

As June progressed and began to turn into July, Bess was in a flutter of activity. He didn't really understand why he couldn't go with her to find her bridesmaid's dress…or why he couldn't go with her when she went to try it on again after it'd been fitted…or again when it was re-fitted. He understood why the groom didn't go see the bride's dress before the wedding day, but they weren't getting married. He was relieved when she finally brought a black garment bag home, but was stunned when she still wouldn't let him see it.

* * *

Sucking the air out of the open wine bottle after pouring herself a hefty glass of merlot in the new stemware she purchased as a housewarming gift to herself, Bess lifted the glass to her lips and took a drink, breathing in the comforting smell of the red wine. Her eyes shifted from Steve, who currently had his feet propped up on the sofa footrest while he watched the (now Los Angeles) Dodgers game, to the clock on the microwave that had just rolled from 11:59 pm on Tuesday, July 3rd to 12:00 am on Wednesday, July 4th. With a smile, she padded barefoot across the cold floor and re-joined Steve on the sofa. After she took another sip of the wine, she set the glass on the coffee table in front of her. "Happy birthday, Steve," Bess said with a grin before reaching up and giving him a quick kiss.

"M-my birthday?" he asked in disbelief. No one had remembered his birthday since before he'd enlisted.

"You didn't think I, of all people, would forget your birthday, did you?" she whispered. "I've seen your file."

"No one else has mentioned it." He shrugged.

"Steve, it's been your birthday for all of two minutes! Besides, I'd be the world's worst girlfriend if I forgot. So Tony's having a party that didn't say it was for your birthday on the invitations."

Once the shock wore off that she knew his birthday, he smiled and returned the kiss. "So when do I get my present?"

"Well, when I was growing up, you'd get a kiss if you were up when the clock rolled over onto your birthday, but you wouldn't get the present until breakfast the next morning. Everyone knows it doesn't feel like tomorrow until after you've gone to bed." Her navy tank top rode up her back as she leaned forward to take another sip of wine.

The wheels in Steve's head began to turn when he caught himself looking at her cleavage as she bent forward. He decided previous week that he didn't want to "hunt unicorns" or whatever crude euphemism Tony had used to describe virginity the morning after he and Bess had kissed for the first time. She'd intentionally let it slip that she'd be more than willing to take him to bed, but only when he said he wanted to. Could this be the magical segue way he'd been looking for? He swallowed hard and braced himself. "Then let's go to bed."

Without batting an eye or catching his hint, she shrugged her shoulders in agreement. "I'll finish this while I go change." She stood up, straightening her olive green sweatpants and began to walk towards her bedroom, glass of wine in hand. She almost sloshed the remaining contents of the glass onto the floor when she felt him grab her arm. "My pajamas are in…" Bess's face changed in confusion when he shook his head and rotated his hand so he held hers gently. "I'm not sleeping in these clothes, Steve. I wore them to the store today."

Steve cleared his throat. "No pajamas needed," he said hoarsely.

She rolled her eyes. "It's hot outside, but I'm not sleeping nake…" She stopped mid sentence, her mouth quickly forming an "o" as she finally caught his meaning. Setting her glass back down on the coffee table, she flashed a coy smile as she walked over to him, slowly snaking her arms around his neck. "Are you asking what I think you're asking, Steve?"

He nodded quickly as he took the opportunity to put his hands on her narrow hips and pull her flush against him.

"I need you to say it," she whispered as her hands fell from his shoulders to his waist. She quickly hooked both her index fingers through the two front belt loops on his khakis, nudging him to walk backwards slowly towards his bedroom. Her thumbs made their way under the hem of his tee shirt and softly touched the soft skin that covered his lower stomach. When he only responded with a strangled moan once they were in his room, she removed her hands from his person and clasped them behind her. "Say it or I leave. This has to be your decision."

"I want you…" he began. His mind was so hazy over to the point where all he could think of was the name of an old Louis Armstrong song. "…body and soul."

She smiled, recognizing a different version of the song and pushed him backwards on his unmade bed before joining him. "You know I'm yours for just the very taking. I'd gladly surrender myself to you body and soul," she sang softly as she ran her hands along his skin from his hips to his shoulders, peeling off his plain white shirt, balling it up and throwing it across the room. "Remember what I said about being handsy," she reminded gently after swinging herself on top of him while planting teasing kisses down his sternum and the groove in his ab muscles.

Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes back in his head, instead focusing on the hem of her tight tank top. Following her lead, he sat up just enough to make her stop her ministrations and slowly peeled the article off of her. His eyes roved over her torso from her pink and white striped silk bra to the silver angel wings hanging from her navel to the four letters tattooed over her left hip. "S-P-Q-R?" he asked, his fingers ghosting over the text.

"Senatus Populusque Romanus," she said, her voice faltering as he touched her. _Is he seriously going to ask what that means now?_

"Mussolini had that printed…"

She shook her head and pressed her lips to his. "Nothing to do with Mussolini. The Roman Republic. Now's not the time for a history lesson," she managed to say between kisses as she pushed him back down on the bed.

He suddenly found himself unable to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head any longer and incapable of rational thought when he felt a draft and realized he didn't know where _any_ of his clothes were… The next rational thought his brain processed was when he felt Bess roll off of him and onto the mattress with a groan and corresponding thud, landing face down on one of the fluffy pillows.

"Jesus tap-dancing Christ," she moaned into the mattress as she pulled the blankets up and over her whole body.

Steve lifted the blankets and crawled under with her, still basking in the afterglow of the most intensely pleasurable feeling he'd ever felt. "I don't think he knew how to tap-dance, but is that a good 'Jesus tap-dancing Christ' or a bad one?"

"Very good," she vocalized in a hoarse whisper, smiling as his blue eyes lit up. "Congrats. You can't capture unicorns anymore. I trust the experience was worth the loss of the ability."

He nodded furiously. "We are definitely doing that again," he said with a laugh as he rolled onto his back and pulled her into him.

"I'm gonna need some recovery time, dude. I think I just got split in half in the most amazing way possible. I'd pass out." She leaned up to kiss him. When she felt his hands trailing down to her waist to maneuver her on top of him again, she broke the kiss. "Very good, you've finally learned what 'handsy' means. Not only is it possible and pleasurable for _you_ to be on top, you seem to forget what 'recovery time' means," she playfully scolded with a soft laugh. "We'll go again after I give you your present. I should be sufficiently recovered by then." Bess quickly stripped the fluffy comforter off the bed and wrapped it around her.

"You don't need to do that." Steve motioned toward the blanket that, when wrapped around her, made her look like a flaming marshmallow.

"The balcony blinds are open. _You've_ seen me naked, but Manhattan hasn't. I'll keep the blanket until I get back." She quickly exited the room, fumbled in her bathroom closet for a box, and waddled back into Steve's room. She tossed the comforter back on the bed, chuckling when she noticed him staring at her bare backside.

"You didn't have to." He took the expensive looking black velvet box from her, eyes widening when he recognized the Rolex logo in the fabric.

"But I did. I wanted to, Steve." She brought one hand behind her back and crossed her index and middle fingers, hoping he liked what was in the box before climbing back into bed.

Opening the box slowly, he inhaled sharply at the modestly-sized silver watch with white face.

"Well, take it out of the box. It's meant to be worn after all," she prodded. As Bess watched Steve lift the watch out of the box, she couldn't help but wear a face-splitting smile. "Look on the back."

Steve gingerly turned the watch over to look behind the face. He sniffled, an unshed tear running down his face as he read the engraving aloud. "_May you never be out of time again. VEW 2012_".

She gently took the watch and fastened it on his left wrist. "Do you like it?"

"I'll never take it off," he replied, suddenly feeling like he had a new lifeline to cling to, something to anchor him to his new time. Oddly enough, he didn't think the _watch_ was that lifeline. As she began to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down on top of her, he swallowed hard. _Nope. It's definitely not the watch…_

* * *

Bess slowly opened her eyes after a few hours of sleep. Her gut reaction to the general dull ache enveloping her body was to roll out of bed and take an entire bottle of Advil. Upon realizing she couldn't feel her toes, she quickly decided that getting out of bed wasn't the best course of action. Rolling over, she began to laugh softly. Steve, the source of her pain, had taken it upon himself to be "big spoon" at some point while they were asleep. _I've created a monster._ The pain briefly intensified when she tried to move closer to him, as if her body was trying to send her a message that four times in just under four hours was a little too much.

_Steve quickly rolled off of her, halting their second round of the evening. "P-protection," he panted, a film of sweat coating his face and chest as the realization hit him. "We didn't… Last time…"_

_Bess smiled, pulling her super-soldier back to her. "That pill I take every morning is all the protection we need." He opened his mouth, presumably to ask how such sorcery was possible, but she quickly silenced him. "I don't understand_ how_ it works either. It just does, trust me. I've been taking it since I was sixteen."_

She lay on her side gazing lovingly into his serene expression as he slept, realizing that she'd _definitely_ created a monster, possibly more than one. At some point, the realization of "this is sex and by god does it feel good" hit her, so she couldn't _entirely_ place the blame on the super-soldier. The best monster by far, Bess decided, was the monster that came out when Steve realized that she didn't mind one bit when he took charge. She shuddered just thinking about it. Deciding that it really didn't matter who was to blame for her pain because, if she was honest with herself, the pain meant that she'd _finally_ gotten some, she rolled back over to her previous position and closed her eyes again.

* * *

"Are you going to be ready to go up to Tony's in a few minutes?" Bess called from the bathroom as she slid a pair of diamond drop earrings into the ear piercing closest to her jaw and a pair of tiny diamond studs into the second hole before ensuring quickly that the short copper curls she'd worked so hard to achieve had the appropriate amount of bounce.

"I'm waiting on you, Bess," Steve replied with a sigh from his spot on the brown leather recliner.

She smoothed out the bodice and hips of her silver taffeta trumpet gown nervously, moving to ensure the cap sleeves would allow for sufficient movement. She slipped on the matching silver high-heeled gladiator sandals before poking her head out of the bathroom. Her heart began to pound when she saw Steve absentmindedly picking at the seam on the arm of the chair. _You can do this. _Taking a deep breath, she lifted her skirt and walked slowly into the living room as her heels clicked across the hardwood floor. "What do you think?" she asked nervously to cover up the real reason for her jitters as she slowly twirled the dress.

He stood up from the chair, eyes widened at the sight in front of him, and straightened the tuxedo jacket that Pepper had provided for him via Bess. "When did you get that? I've never seen it before."

"Only one of those trips to the dress place was for the dress for Aaron's wedding," she replied with a wink. "So I clean up alright?" She stopped at the glass-topped coffee table and picked up the black stereo remote, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed.

"Well, I'd call that more than alright…" Reaching up, he twirled one of the ringlets around his left index finger as he took in her carefully applied black eye makeup. "What's with the remote? Shouldn't we get going?"

"We'll get going soon enough. For the moment, I'm going to need you to close your eyes," she said with a smile. When he didn't close her eyes, she playfully swatted his chest with the remote. "Seriously, Steve. Please?"

He rolled his eyes, unsure of why he needed to close his eyes, and reluctantly complied with her request.

Sure that his eyes were actually closed, she pressed play on the remote and tossed it onto the sofa.

"What's going on, Bess? Can I open my eyes now?" he asked, tensing up as he felt her place his right hand on her left hip, took his left hand in her right hand, and placed her left hand on his shoulder. A slow, mournful piano melody began to play, and a man began to sing.

"_I've heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift. The baffled king composing hallelujah__…"_

"I'm cashing in a very long overdue rain check," she whispered, resting her forehead against the right side of his neck as she nudged him into a slow dance. She smiled when he shuddered.

"_Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…_"

"A-a rain check?" He swallowed hard. There was only one person who would know about that…

"_Your faith was strong but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof. Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you. She tied you to a kitchen chair. She broke your throne, and she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…_"

"She didn't tell me about this until after she died."

He abruptly broke the contact and paused the song. "What?"

Bess sighed, lacing her fingers behind her neck and looking at the floor. "The letter Aunt Peggy left me. She said some clichéd things about taking care of myself, you know, find a nice man, don't work too hard." Tears began to prickle at the corners of her eyes as she remembered the recording. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink away the tears.

"What did she tell you?" he asked in a pleading whisper, bringing his thumb up to her cheek to wipe the tears away.

"Some of the radio transmissions were recorded back then, especially the ones related to Schmidt. Howard saved one for her. She left it for me, said it would explain what she needed me to do and why she did everything she did. I listened to it after the Will was read." She fanned her eyes, still trying not to let the tears spill over her lashes. "Steve, don't make me say anything else. I can't…"

"Please. I…I have to know. I need to hear you say it."

Taking in several ragged breaths, Bess continued. "It was your conversation before you put the plane in the water. I'd never heard her sound…broken before."

He threw his arms around her and pulled her in for a crushing hug as he tried not to cry. He buried his face in her hair.

"She wanted me to understand how much you meant to her. I always knew it was a great deal, but I… This wasn't at all how I had this planned out in my mind," she said with a sad laugh, her voice muffled by his shirt collar.

"And how did you have this planned out?" He released her from the hug and looked down into her brown eyes.

She clicked the stereo back on. "First, we need to finish this dance."

Nodding, with a small smile, he cautiously put his hands back on her waist and in hers.

"_Baby I have been here before. I know this room, I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew you. I've seen your flag on the marble arch. Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah…_"

She laid her head back on his shoulder as they danced slowly, this time letting Steve lead.

"_Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…_"

When the song faded out, she backed out of his embrace slowly. "It wasn't the dance you wanted, but was it good enough?"

Steve nodded. "It was the dance I was promised, but as it turns out, it's the one I wanted."

"But…" Bess's protests were quickly silenced by a very sudden, very passionate kiss.

* * *

Tony popped open a bottle of champagne from the stand and began to pour the contents into the flutes on the table. "Now, while I play bartender, I'm going to turn it over to our mistress of ceremonies over here," he said, motioning to Bess.

Taking a glass of champagne from Tony, Bess smiled shyly and looked at the terrace floor before raising her head to face Steve and his comrades in arms. She exhaled sharply, trying to force the stress away. "Well, now that we're all here…"

Steve raised an eyebrow in confusion. "This is everyone?" he asked, looking around and only seeing Tony, Pepper, Bess, Doctor Banner, and Agents Romanoff and Barton.

"Yes," Pepper said, handing Steve a glass of champagne.

"Normally, Stark parties are much bigger," Tony began, earning a sideways glance from both Bess and Pepper. "This year, though, two out of the three redheads present convinced me to tone it down. I don't see why we couldn't have still..."

"Pepper and I actually had to give Tony something to do. He wanted to hire strippers and paint them red, white, and blue," Bess interrupted, trying to stifle a giggle when Bruce Banner pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. She cleared her throat. "As we all know, we're here tonight for a double purpose." She glanced over at Steve. "Don't look at me like that. No one forgot your birthday. I honestly never thought we'd be able to keep this a surprise. Tony told me all about how JARVIS was moving too slow for you, so you decided to go ripping open doors on helicarriers, Steve. The dress fitting excuse was beginning to wear thin."

Tony shrugged as if to ask what else he should have done, earning an embarrassed smile from Steve.

"As I was saying, we're here for a dual purpose tonight. Most importantly, we're here to remind Steve that no one forgot his birthday." Bess took a deep breath and smiled at her soldier before beginning her speech. "The first time I saw our birthday boy, I stress-vomited in the shell of a HYDRA ship because I was going to have to tell my great-aunt that he'd been dead for seventy years. Next thing I know, I'm being told to stay in Queens because shit's about to go down here in Manhattan. Turns out that shit goes down, and I get roused from sleep by my great-aunt beating me with a pillow as she screamed at me for not telling her Steve was alive. Then our beloved and feared leader shows up at the door with a mission. And y'all know that it's going to be a great day when that happens."

Natasha gave a knowing nod, downing her glass of champagne quickly as she quickly scanned the balcony for other, stronger liquor.

Her face shifted from a smile to nervously chewing on the inside of her bottom lip. "I'll never forget what he said. 'Your previous assignment was to find him. Your new assignment is to find him a place in this world.' At the time, I was completely clueless to what he meant by that. We're still working on navigating the heady waters of the 1970's, but I think he's found a place." She shot Steve a knowing wink as her smile returned. "JARVIS?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Take it away," she commanded.

"With pleasure," the AI replied as glam rock music began to fill the air.

_It's been a year since I was here. On the street, I'm just passing my time away._

"So, for our first toast this evening, let's raise a glass to Steve Rogers, our birthday boy…" Bess began over the lyrics to the song, raising her glass of champagne to eye level. "…the 'Star Spangled Man with a Plan' who's no longer a 'man out of time' because he's…"

_To the left and to the right, a town of stone grows to the sky, and it's out of sight in a fading light. Here I am again in the city with a fist full of dollars, and baby you gotta believe…_

"Back, back in the New York groove," she added in time with the chorus as red, white, and blue fireworks began shooting up into the night sky from off in the distance in time to the percussion beats of the chorus.

_I'm back, back in the New York groove. I'm back in the New York groove. In the New York groove…_

At the realization that this really was all for him, Steve's cheeks turned a curious shade of pink.

_In the back of a Cadillac with a lady by my side, tell you where I'll be. Stop at Third and Forty-three, dance into the night. It's gonna be ecstasy. This day was made for me…_

When the music died down and the fireworks stopped, Bess began to speak again. "And as we all know, you can't have a 'Star Spangled Man with a Plan' without a Star Spangled Banner. 'We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare…'

"Oh my god," Tony groaned. "You've _got_ to be kidding me. We know you're a nerd. You don't have to recite…" He was abruptly cut off when Pepper slapped her hand over his mouth.

"'That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown,'" she continued with a smile. "'And that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved.'" Once she stopped and raised her glass again, an orchestral march began filling the air as a long sequence of fireworks once again lit up the sky.

Steve crossed the floor and put an arm around her waist before pressing a chaste kiss to her temple, much to the surprise of everyone else in attendance. "I don't quite recognize this Sousa march."

"You don't recognize it because it's not a Sousa march." Bess chuckled as she brought an arm to rest in the middle of his back. "This was supposed to be Captain America's V-E and V-J Day music. Tony actually dug it up."

"How 'bout that," he said with a smile as he watched the fireworks bursting in amongst the skyscrapers. "This is much better than the other song."

"Which he kept trying to get JARVIS to play instead of this," she said as she shook her head.

Tony shot a look at Pepper. "Did you know anything about this?" he questioned, moving his finger back and forth quickly as he motioned at Bess and Steve.

"I've known for a while," she replied, taking a dainty sip of her champagne before fidgeting with the waist of her black one-shouldered gown.

"So you knew that the Capsicle and the Queen were…" He scoffed, not finishing his sentence. "And you didn't tell me. I don't like this, Miss Potts."

Pepper simply rolled her eyes.

* * *

They'd left the party several hours later around two in the morning, all (drunken) eyes on them, especially after a catcall from Tony. "Steve! Steve Rogers, put me _down_!" Bess squealed with a smile, hitting Steve's back with her fists after she suddenly found herself slung over his broad left shoulder like a sack of feed.

With his free right hand, he fished around in his tuxedo pocket for his keys as he abruptly shifted her weight to keep the broach on the side of her dress from scratching his neck. "Nope, that's not an option," he laughed as he shoved the heavy door open and stepped inside.

She tried her best for an exasperated groan, but her recent fits of champagne-induced giggles rendered her incapable of any serious thoughts. "Oh my _god_, I have created a monster," she lamented, unable to suppress her smile as he literally tossed her on the bed in her room with golf course grass green walls. She shook her head and covered her eyes when she saw him begin to peel away his tux jacket and bowtie. "I've turned a virgin into a sex…" She abruptly removed her hands from her face when found herself silenced by a calloused index finger pressed over her lips.

He climbed onto the bed with her still clothed, the playfulness in his eyes replaced by something more serious as he began to absentmindedly twirl a ringlet of her hair around his finger. "Even if I said it every day for the rest of my life, I don't know if I could ever thank you for everything you've done."

"Steve, what are you doing?" she whispered in a shaky voice, rolling onto her side to look into his eyes.

He closed his blue eyes, sighed, and opened them again. "Please let me finish?" He waited on her agreement to continue. "I know this," Steve said, motioning between them, "started out as your job. You found me and then were told to 'bring me up to speed'. I can safely say that when SHIELD told me they had someone to do that, I wasn't at all excited about it. I was always the kid that drew in school and didn't really listen. Somewhere in between your drunken refusal to allow me to wallow in my own self-pity and the incident at the bar, I realized that I might actually want something more out of this than a history lesson. That suspicion was confirmed when I _voluntarily_ called Tony Stark and asked him how to get back in your good graces."

She smiled and gently pulled his hand out of her hair and held it in hers.

"Then, when you sent me the message saying you would have enjoyed a date with 'the little fella', I realized that you might want something more, too. I still have that message, by the way." He kissed her forehead when she laughed softly. "You didn't create a monster last night, my dear Bess. You created one almost a month ago when you said despite everything, you _did_ care and you _did_ want something more." Steve paused, momentarily taking his hand out of hers to wipe away a forming tear before taking her hand again. "I can't think of a time when I felt more at home or more loved."

_Loved? _Bess's heart began to pound at the mention of the "l-word". "Steve, think about what you're about to say. Just because we've slept together doesn't mean that you have to…"

"I wouldn't have asked you to if I didn't know I loved you." He winced. That was not how he wanted to say that. "I love you, Virginia Elizabeth Williams." Instead of the reaction he expected, he was met with a shocked stare. "I-it's usually customary to give _some kind_ of response at this juncture."

"_You_ love _me_?" she managed to squeak out and he nodded. She laughed in disbelief, burying her face in the new black comforter.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked quietly, gently nudging her until she picked her head up to look at him again.

"No, I guess not. I just never expected to love you too." Bess suddenly found herself wrapped in a tight hug, the taffeta of her dress crunching underneath Steve's grip as he kissed her so hard she thought her teeth might break. Before she shut her eyes and returned the embrace, she thought she saw a lone tear threaten to escape the corner of his eye…

* * *

**Author's Note:** As always, nothing is truly mine. Many thanks to **Angels Fall Hardest** for the idea of the watch for a gift. Thanks as always to **TrickPhotography** for all her invaluable help.

And here it is, the eagerly anticipated "4th of July / Happy Birthday Steve" chapter. This chapter's longer than the previous one, but a lot happens. Oh, there is a quote from the Declaration of Independence in here. If the capitalization seems off to you, I wrote it in here _exactly _like it was originally written. Take it up with Thomas Jefferson and the rest of the Continental Congress. I struggled with putting the last part of this chapter in at all… But Steve, Captain America or not, has differing thoughts on things than I do. (Case in point: unplanned Angry Steve…)

Next chapter will be the beginning of some hilarity as a road-trip begins, the calm before the storm if you will. The storm won't be coming for a bit, but it will come. It can't all be sunshine and roses, can it? I've got big plans for this story to go out with a bang. Don't worry, it's not over yet. We've still got a good amount of ground to cover. There's still the action I promised. I'm so evil, I know. I mean, Steve still hasn't named his price for agreeing to go to the wedding. Don't get out the pitch forks just yet. When he does, it's gonna be good.

There are many songs included in this chapter. They are: "New York Groove" by Hello, "Hallelujah" by Rufus Wainwright (well, that's the version I was listening to while writing this), and "Body and Soul" by Tony Bennett and Amy Winehouse. It doesn't make an appearance in this chapter, but I've had "Go the Distance" from the _Hercules_ soundtrack stuck in my head for days while writing this. I have absolutely no idea why. Actually, I probably do have an idea, but whatever. I've added it, and some other videos, to the soundtrack for this story (youtube dot com / playlist ? list=PLB9733FA02009394D just remove the spaces, as always).


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** As always, I own nothing (save for Bess). Thanks again to TrickPhotography for her help.

This is going to be a shorter update. I do apologize for that, but there is a reason. Real life and writer's block have prevented me from updating sooner. This update coincides with the pre-wedding festivities / wedding of Bess's brother. The end of this chapter seemed like the best place to end for now. I've got exciting wedding action / embarrassing parents coming up, so please stay tuned. My wheels are turning, and boy are they taking me to exciting places for the next installments.

I'm so overwhelmed by the support you've given me. I'm speechless. I raise my glass of wine to each and every one of you who've favorite, alerted, and (most importantly) reviewed. If I could give y'all each little Steves of your own, I would. As regular readers know, I respond to every non-anonymous review. I think that's so important because it's my way of letting y'all know individually how much I appreciate each and every one of you. And I can give spoilers that way. To the anon who said "You do an amazing job of keeping everyone in character and I absolutely love Bess (even though she likes country)", my response is to play you the songs of my people: "Rocky Top" and "Red Solo Cup" while yelling "I DO WHAT I WANT!"

Now, I leave you with the songs for this chapter and the chapter itself while I go watch "The Dark Knight" and mentally prepare myself for seeing "The Dark Knight Rises" tomorrow.

**Songs for this chapter:** "Over the Hills and Far Away" by Led Zeppelin, Three Pink Floyd songs ("Money", "Mother", and "Goodbye Blue Sky"), "Lust for Life" by Iggy Pop, "In the Mood" by Glen Miller, "Something Stupid" by Frank and Nancy Sinatra, "Daddy Sang Bass" by Johnny Cash, and "I Go Back" by Kenny Chesney.

Chapter Thirteen – "Over the Hills and Far Away"

_Many dreams come true and some have silver linings  
I live for my dream and a pocketful of gold.  
Mellow is the man who knows what he's been missing  
Many, many men can't see the open road…_

"Is Fury going to let his soldier out for five days worth of fun?" Bess taunted as she tossed the last of their belongings into the backseat of her black Jeep.

Steve pulled open the passenger door and slid into the seat, dropping his phone into the cup holder. "I have to let him know when we get there."

"Sounds just like my dad, but unlike my dad, Fury can call out the National Guard if you forget to call him." She chuckled as she turned the engine over and pulled onto Fifth Avenue from the Stark Tower parking garage. Making her way towards the Holland Tunnel and Interstate 78, she hooked her iPhone to the car stereo. "Ok, so road trip playlist rules. I've got the first song in mind, but we don't skip songs unless it's another version of a song we've already heard, got it?"

"I'm skeptical of agreeing to that," he said as he put his sunglasses on in the early morning sun. "That Alice Cooper fella…"

"Steve, your old man is showing," she chastised at his use of the word "fella", trying to hide a smile as she rolled down the windows to let the cool early morning breeze blow into the car. "Please lighten up?"

He shook his head at her, unable to stop the smile from crossing his face. He'd finally learned, after she repeated it every time he failed to take a moment to laugh at himself, that she had to "give one person shit per day". Since he was the only one that she'd see a lot of times, that honor fell on him to be the recipient. "Fine."

Bess pushed play and a soft guitar melody began to fill the car. As the song progressed, the tempo of the song increased before a man began singing. "_Hey lady-you got the love I need, maybe more than enough. Oh darling...walk a while with me. You've got so much... Many have I loved, many times been bitten. Many times I've gazed along the open road…_"

Over the course of her time with Steve, she'd quickly learned that there was no making him like certain kinds of music. She found that he loved The Beatles and Elvis. He was alright with The Who. Led Zeppelin…he was slowly warming to. The Grateful Dead he hated outright, but she couldn't blame him. So did she. Pink Floyd? He just didn't _get_ Pink Floyd. Admittedly, she'd skipped ahead when she introduced him to them. His gravitation towards 1960s rock music had given her hope.

"_C'mon Steve, please listen to this?" Bess begged as she held up a very old vinyl copy of Pink Floyd's __Dark Side of the Moon__ shortly after they moved into Stark Tower. "I don't have a copy of _The Wizard of Oz_ to play it with, but…"_

"_What does this have to do with _The Wizard of Oz_?" Steve asked, more confused than he'd been since she made him watch a film called _Inception_. _

"_Well, supposedly, if you start playing the record when the lion roars in the MGM logo or something, the album is supposed to sync up with the movie." She rolled her eyes as she set the record onto the old turntable that looked more out of place in this high-tech living room than Steve felt. "Some friends and I got really hammered a few years ago and decided to try it." Placing the f-shaped arm over the record, she selected the 33 1/3 setting and watched as the record dropped down onto the player and the arm containing the needle found purchase on the first song. _

"_Did it work?" He shook his head wondering why in the world someone incorporated cash registers in a song. _

_She laughed and took another sip of her Rolling Rock. "We were all so drunk that I think we forgot to change the record over when it needed to be flipped. We never tried it sober, though. Honestly, I don't care."_

"Money, get back. I'm all right Jack keep your hands off of my stack. Money, it's a hit.  
Don't give me that do goody good bullshit. I'm in the high-fidelity, first class traveling set, and I think I need a Lear jet._"_

_He winced at the space-y guitar sounds and borderline nonsensical lyrics. "B-Bess, no offense, but I don't think this is for me…" he admitted softly, hoping he hadn't hurt her feelings. She seemed excited to share this with him. He prayed that this wasn't her favorite album…_

_She seemed to deflate a little, but managed to mostly hide it. "This isn't my favorite album of theirs," she admitted as she stopped the record, slipping it back into its sleeve. She gently put it back in the old peach crate with the other records before pulling out another one. This time, the cover was white with lines that made it appear to be a brick wall. "This one is my favorite album of theirs. Not of all time, just theirs." _

_She stopped halfway back to the turntable and looked down at the record, running her fingers over the sleeve while chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. She hadn't even let him listen to The Who's __Tommy__ all the way through yet to avoid the uncomfortable opening words of the album: "Captain Walker didn't come home. His unborn child would never know him. Believe him missing with a number of men, don't expect to see him again…" How was she going to explain not only "The Thin Ice", but the more obvious parallels to World War II: "_Did you see the frightened ones? Did you hear the falling bombs? Did you ever wonder why we had to run for shelter when the promise of a brave new world unfurled beneath a clear blue sky?_"_

_Bess quickly laid the record down on the coffee table. "On second thought, let's save this for another day. Why don't you pick something out, huh?"_

As the Led Zeppelin song ended, another song that sounded like a rock and roll relative of "In the Mood" started. Steve's face brightened, but then fell slightly when he realized that this _definitely_ was not what he expected.

"_Here comes Johnny Yen again with the liquor and drugs and the flesh machine. He's gonna do another strip tease. Hey man, where'd you get that lotion? I've been hurting since I've bought the gimmick about something called love. Yeah, something called love. Well, that's like hypnotizing chickens._"

He looked over at Bess. His mouth hung open and, unlike her, was not laughing. "What in the world am I listening to?"

"Iggy Pop is something we haven't gotten to yet. The lines between people putting out garage rock, punk rock, glam rock, and shock rock kind of got blurred in the mid to late Seventies…"

Steve smiled as he shook his head softly as she began explaining the subtle nuances between the early styles of Iggy Pop and someone called David Bowie…

Just over six hours later, a weary Bess pulled off of Interstate 81 just south of Harrisonburg, Virginia over the sound of Frank Sinatra singing a duet with his daughter just as her low fuel light came on. Parking next to a gas pump at the BP station just off the highway, she mumbled something about "having to pee like a racehorse" and raced inside the gas station.

This wasn't the first time Steve had used a gas pump, so he decided to be helpful and fill up the basically empty tank and toss out the empty plastic water bottles they'd picked up at their last stop somewhere in Pennsylvania. Just about the time the tank was replenished, Bess strode out of the store looking refreshed and holding two more liter sized bottles of water. He smiled as she pressed a refreshingly cold bottle into his hand and gave him a kiss.

"I got it from here, handsome. Why don't you go inside if you need to?" she asked as she tried to straighten out the odd sleeping-in-the-car-induced wrinkles in his blue polo shirt to no avail. As he turned to go, she grabbed his hand again. "Hey, would you mind taking over driving?"

"You trust _me_ to drive your _Jeep_?" he asked sarcastically, clutching his hand to his chest. "Are you sure?"

Bess playfully swatted his arm. "Yes, of course I trust you. I'll take back over once we're about an hour out of Knoxville so you don't get lost."

"Get lost? This coming from the person that is convinced she'll get lost walking around Manhattan if she doesn't have her destination plugged into her phone's GPS," Steve taunted. "Which one of us successfully had a photographic memory of secret Nazi weapon factories? Oh, that was me."

She couldn't think of anything to say at first. _I think "Snarky Steve Rogers" just showed up…_ "I happen to know a quicker way to my parents' house than what a map would tell you, Steve Rogers. It'd take me longer to explain it to you than to just drive it myself. Now go inside before I leave you here."

After he turned to walk into the gas station, he felt a sharp slap to his backside. He stopped mid-stride and turned to face Bess with a look of pure shock on his face.

"Yes, you just got your delectable ass smacked in public. Now go!" she ordered with a laugh, crawling into the passenger's seat.

When he returned a few minutes later, she tossed the keys across the console after he opened the door. He crawled into the driver's seat, suddenly realizing just how tiny his girl really was when he couldn't get his body entirely into the seat without her help moving the seat back and down.

"_I remember when I was a lad, times were hard and things were bad, but there's a silver linin' behind every cloud. Just four people, that's all we were, tryin' to make a livin' out of black land dirt…_"

"You're smiling," Steve commented over the strains of Johnny Cash as he merged back onto the highway.

"And the speed limit's seventy," Bess said with a giggle. "You can actually go a little faster than that if you want. And I've found myself unable to _stop_ smiling lately, thanks to you."

Once he'd reached the speed limit and set the cruise control just as she directed, he took one hand off the steering wheel and laced his fingers through hers.

"However," she began with a deep breath, "unlike the shit-eating grin I haven't been able to get off my face for two weeks, that smile was a sad one."

"Want to talk about it?" he asked as he passed a semi.

With her free thumb, she motioned back towards the exit where they'd stopped. "Aunt Peggy always used to say that particular exit marked the point in the drive home where I'd suddenly regain my thick Southern accent. Then when we'd get back to Queens, it would take a week for my accent to tone back down."

Steve suddenly looked confused. "Y-you drove this way with…"

"Remember how I told you that after Jack died, she refused to get on a plane again?" when he nodded, she gripped his hand tighter, bracing him for the rest of the story. "Walt died just before I moved in with her, so my first Christmas break from Columbia would have been her first Christmas alone. One of Walt's sisters was still alive, but she was never close to her really." Bess looked over at him and saw his jaw begin to tense. "Long story short, I pushed her out the door and into my car, and every time I went home save once in six years, we drove this exact route. It feels unnatural going home any other way." She began to laugh in an attempt to cover up the tear that started rolling down her right cheek. "And she never abided by the 'road trip music' rules, especially when I'd start playing country music as soon as we got into Knox County."

"And the one time you didn't go home this way?"

"Dad had gotten in a severe car accident. They weren't sure if he would make it, so I got excused from my classes for a few days, made sure she'd be ok by herself, and flew down just in case. He turned out to be fine, thank god. The only Christmas that I didn't spend with her since I moved in was actually the first Christmas I was on with SHIELD. I spent Christmas Day looking for you," she added with a laugh. "But my family flew up to be with her." Bess gently brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "She was never alone, Steve."

He sniffed quietly and cleared his throat. "Why are you telling me that?"

"Because we both cared about her very much, and if you think about it, she's the reason we're here together right now."

Steve smiled sadly, still fighting back the lone tear. He didn't want her to see him cry over Peggy, not now, not after everything that happened between them. He looked out over the open road and silently thanked his first love for leading him to his second.

Several hours later after she woke up from a nap and the bright sun had finally set, Steve looked over to see Bess absolutely beaming. "Nap did you wonders, did it?"

"Get off at the next exit and turn right into the McDonalds," she directed, unable to stop smiling. "I'll drive the last hour."

Shrugging, he did as he was told and pulled into the gas station with a built in McDonalds off of the highway. After a quick pit stop and an adventure to get her driver's seat reset, they were back on the highway.

With a smile, she merged back onto Interstate 40 and tapped her phone screen several times before some different music came over the speakers.

"I thought you said no skipping," Steve protested.

Bess pointed to one of the green road signs illuminated by her round headlights. "We're in Knox County. Let me play you the song of my people," she said with a giggle. "Jack and Diane painted a picture of my life in my dreams. Suddenly this crazy world made more sense to me. I heard it today, and I couldn't help but sing along. 'Cause every time I hear that song I go back to a two-tone short-bed Chevy, drivin' my first love out to the levy, livin' life with no sense of time."

He rolled his eyes, unable to suppress a smile as her accent changed as they passed the sign.

"You can't see it because it's dark," she began using her left hand to point out of the open window, "but just up that hill right there is a farmhouse with a red roof. Grandpa and Grandma Williams are both dead now, so my parents own the house, but that's where my dad grew up. We're about a mile east of the Strawberry Plains exit."

As they drove closer and closer to Knoxville, he couldn't help but wonder how many of the sights Bess pointed out Peggy visited. He barely heard her as she lamented being unable to show him "the big brass disco ball" and the church where the wedding would be in the daylight as they were barely visible from the interstate. Did Peggy have fond memories of this place?

She rolled her eyes when she realized she had basically been talking to herself for the past five miles as she changed lanes to avoid being forced onto Interstate 640. "And over in that apartment complex is where I was in an orgy with the entire Volunteer offensive line," Bess said a little louder than she should as she pointed to an apartment complex on the right side of the interstate.

Steve's mouth dropped open and stared at her as her face glowed in the lights from the dashboard. "You…you _what_?"

She descended into a fit of laughter. "I didn't really. You were a thousand miles away while I was talking to myself, clearly."

He folded his arms over his chest with a frown. "Why would you say something like that?"

"I was just trying to get your attention," she admitted with a shrug as she merged into the exit lane with a yawn. "Thank god we're almost there. I just need to go pass out." She rubbed her eyes as she waited for the traffic light signaled her to cross the intersection by a shopping mall and up the hill.

Steve watched as she effortlessly navigated the commercial-turned-residential streets, twisting and turning back into small neighborhoods. Eventually, she pulled into the driveway of a modest two-story brick house.

"Ready for the welcoming committee to show you where I grew up?" Bess asked in a tired whisper as she shut off the car.


	14. Chapter 14

**Songs for this chapter:** "Friends in Low Places" by Garth Brooks and "99 Problems" by Jay Z.

**Author's Note:** *dodges flying objects thrown by readers* I'm so sorry for my absence, guys! There's a reason, I promise. I wish I could say that I'd been busy with work and other things, but I can't. The reason I've been absent for a while is that I checked myself before I wrecked myself (best said in way that Zach Galifianakis said it in _Due Date_). I've never written a story this long this fast before. I was finding it a _chore_ to write, not a pleasure. I took a little time off from this story to get my head back on straight. I'd never abandon this story. I've got too good of an ending planned (Bess has to threaten the God of Mischief!) for you all. Thank y'all so much for bearing with me. I am nothing without my reviewers.

Some may notice that one of the teaser previews I sent previously finally comes into the story! Speaking of those teaser previews… I have another involving Bess and Loki for the reviewers! (Remember to be logged in so I can send it to you!) So, I haven't met any of you, and this is crazy, but here's a new chapter (FINALLY), so review maybe?

What did I do with my time off? Well, I spent far too much time on two particular Tumblrs (thfrustration and chrisevans-sexualfrustrations). I've submitted a story to the latter. XD

As always, I own nothing. Many thanks to TrickPhotography for the assistance (and kick in the butt).

Chapter Fourteen – "Friends in Low Places"

_Everything's all right  
I'll just say goodnight  
And I'll show myself to the door  
Hey, I didn't mean  
To cause a big scene  
Just give me an hour and then  
Well, I'll be as high  
As that ivory tower  
That you're livin' in.._

As she stepped out of the clothes she'd worn during the twelve hour drive from New York to Tennessee, Bess began to shiver. Even after living in her corner bedroom for years, she still couldn't possibly fathom why in the world her parents wanted to keep it colder than a meat locker in the upstairs of the house. Thankfully, she'd come prepared. Pulling the old Bearden High School sweatshirt over her head and matching sweatpants over her legs, she opened the door to the bathroom that connected her childhood bedroom to her sister's bedroom, occupied by Steve for the duration of their stay. She crossed the freezing tile floor, deftly avoiding the loose one in front of the shower (that for some reason still hadn't been fixed) and slowly opened the door into Steve's room. "We could totally lock the doors to both these rooms and no one would know that we're together," she said with a sly grin as she leaned against the bathroom door frame.

"Your parents clearly separated us. It's their house. It wouldn't be right," he admitted reluctantly as he removed his blue polo. There was nothing that he wanted more than to be able to feel her heartbeat as he held her while they slept. He'd thrown some of his previous inhibitions out the window when he began spending every night in the literal and figurative bed of a woman he wasn't married to, but there were some things that he just couldn't bring himself to do. Defying the implied wishes of his girl's parents, the people whose approval of their relationship he desperately wanted, was most definitely one of those things.

"You gonna be okay in here by yourself without me then?" she asked softly, shoving her hands into the pockets of the sweatpants.

Popping his head through the neck hole of the plain white tee shirt he always seemed to sleep in, Steve smiled sadly. "I hope so." He prayed he would be. The last thing he wanted was to have a repeat of "the big one" and disturb more people than just Bess.

She quickly crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Bess sighed softly when she felt his arms encircle her waist. "Promise me that if you have a nightmare, you'll come get in bed with me. I'll deal with my parents, if there's even anything to deal with. Both my grandfathers had nightmares after they came back from Europe, not that they'd ever admit it openly."

BREAK

Steve's eyes fluttered open the next morning when he heard the shower in the next room as well as some music start. Bess had to be in the shower. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief at the realization that he hadn't actually dreamed at all, not that he could remember at least. He took stock of the bedroom he'd been given in the daylight. Bess had said something about the room being "so 1997". He wasn't even going to pretend that he knew what that meant. Just as he began to wonder what in the world a "Stone Temple Pilots" was, a knock came on the closed door that led out into the hallway. He jumped out of the warm bed to answer it.

"Ah, so you are awake," Bess's mother Janet greeted warmly as she shifted a laundry basket onto her other hip. Upon hearing the bass line booming from the bathroom, she rolled her ice blue eyes.

"If you're having girl problems I feel bad for you son. I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one," Bess sang into her shampoo bottle, the sound muffled by the walls.

"I only hope to god she never had a shower singing session to that song when her Aunt Peggy was around," Janet said with a laugh as she motioned for Steve to go downstairs in front of her, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting upstairs. "I have this mental image of her pulling a pistol from under the mattress and blasting the speakers into oblivion."

…_I'm like fuck critics you can kiss my whole asshole. If you don't like my lyrics, you can press fast forward. Got beef with radio if I don't play they show. They don't play my hits well I don't give a shit…_

He grimaced at the continuing cacophony from the bathroom and motioned that he could take the laundry basket before they began their descent into the kitchen. "That sounds like a typical Peggy response."

She handed Steve the wicker clothes basket gratefully as she let a small chuckle escape her lips. "Sometimes I forget that you're…_you_. I laughed for a solid five minutes when she told me before Peggy's funeral that she'd found you alive and unchanged," she paused when she saw the super-soldier's face start to color. "But seeing is believing, I suppose." Once they arrived downstairs, she opened the door to the laundry room off the back of the living room and motioned for him to put the basket on the hardwood floor.

As he entered the kitchen behind his hostess, he saw David, Bess's father, already seated at the table. His nose was stuck in the morning paper, reading glasses slipping down his nose as he drank his coffee. When David heard Steve enter the kitchen, he looked up. "Morning, Steve," he greeted warmly as he set the paper down and pushed his glasses up on top of his head that now had more grey hair than the dark brown of his younger days.

"Morning, Mister Williams." Steve returned the greeting as he sat down in a chair at the kitchen table, waiting for the plate that Janet was preparing for him.

David's face scrunched up. "'Mister Williams' was my father. David, please," he corrected with a pained smile.

* * *

_Having just lost ten dollars to Director Fury, Steve stood in the middle of the command center with his hands in the pockets of his brown pinstripe pants staring out at the blue sky filled with white puffy clouds. He was indeed surprised, just as the intimidating man in the trench coat predicted he would be. He just stood there staring out into the sky, listening to the hum of activity around him, but he failed to notice that someone was talking to him. _

"_Captain?" the male voice asked, placing a hand on his arm._

_Snapping out of his reverie, Steve whirled around to see Agent Coulson standing at his side. "Agent Coulson, what can I do for you?" _

"_You can see the sky just as well back at the table. Did you not notice the people running around you?" the agent asked with a smile._

_He looked down at his brown boots with an embarrassed smile. "I guess not," he admitted as he followed him back to the rear of the room. Stopping at some railing, he leaned back against it before crossing his arms over his broad chest, Coulson following the lead of his hero. _

"_How are you adjusting?" Coulson asked, fumbling with his SHIELD badge and straightening out imaginary wrinkles in his suit jacket. _

_Steve looked over at the older-looking man, recognizing that he was just trying to start up a conversation. "To say it's been difficult is an understatement. So much that was there before isn't there now." He sighed heavily. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I passed out and woke up seventy years later. It's been a strange two weeks. There was some mention of someone being assigned to help me, but I guess that's been put on hold now."_

"_On hold temporarily. Agent Williams, the agent that found you, is going to help you with your adjustment. When Loki took the Tesseract, all non-essential SHIELD personnel were told to stay home until this is all over. Agent Williams used the opportunity to take some personal time to be with a sick family member," he said, not meeting the Captain's curious gaze. He'd intentionally given Steve Bess's name, but had conveniently left out any mention of Peggy. "Agent Williams is a historian by education."_

"_Then he ought to be a big help," Steve replied half-heartedly. He'd never been much of one for history class in school. The thought of having to learn everything that happened while he'd been "missing" was beginning to give him a headache. What also wasn't helping was the friendly agent talking about his Captain America trading cards…_

"…_I mean, if it's not too much trouble," Coulson added softly after he asked if Steve could sign his cards._

"_No, no, it's fine," Steve replied dismissively._

"_It's a vintage set. Took me a couple years to collect 'em all. Near mint, slight foxing around the edges…"_

"_Got a hit. 67% match. Wait, cross match, 79% match…" _

* * *

"Steve, can I talk to you for a minute?" David asked as he gestured for them to move outside onto the back deck into the muggy dusk air after the rest of the bridal party picked up Bess to head to the "bachelorette dinner" as they'd termed it.

Steve's heart began to pound, praying this wasn't the infamous "what are your intentions towards my daughter" talk he remembered Bucky saying he dreaded as he followed David onto the lightly stained deck.

David's faded Atlanta Braves tee shirt covered back facing Steve, he took a deep breath and began. "How much has Bess told you about her older sister, Natalie?" he asked, bending down to light the fire pit before sitting down in one of the patio chairs and propping his feet up on the iron rim of the urn. He gestured for Steve to sit in the chair opposite him.

Steve sat down in the chair, still not one hundred percent sure this wasn't going to turn into the dreaded talk. "Not much, sir. She mentioned that she went off to college in California and…made some mistakes. I don't think she's ever mentioned her name. Why?"

He looked up at the fading sunlight. "My wife reminds me every time the subject of her comes up that I'm not a bad father, but I failed her. I know deep down I did. I tried to help Natalie, I really did. She took my help as long as it came in the form of a check, but refused to come back home, refused to talk to me. I've never met my own grandson, and he's going to be thirteen this year." At the mention of his grandson, Ben, David began to choke up and his brown eyes brimmed with tears. "I don't know where she is. I don't know what she's doing. She won't speak to me. Do you have any kids, Steve?" he asked, wiping his eyes.

Steve shook his head. "No I don't. I would like to."

He nodded knowingly. "No matter how old they get, they'll always be your babies. You'll see that when you have some of your own. There's this pain that's like a stab in the gut that won't ever go away that's been there since December 27, 1999, the day my first baby said she'd never speak to me again." He sighed heavily and slumped his head forward, his grey and brown hair shining in the firelight.

"I don't know what to say," Steve whispered. "Sir, why are you telling _me_ this? This is the second time you've ever seen me."

David looked across the fire, his brown eyes meeting Steve's. "I've lost one daughter. I'm scared to death that I might lose my other one."

"Sir, I…" he stammered, panicking that somehow Bess's father knew that they'd slept together and might be planning a shotgun wedding.

David smiled, sensing the younger (looking) man's terror. "There are things that a father suspects, but doesn't want confirmation of, so all I'll say is that Janet and I didn't wait until the wedding night either." He chuckled when he saw Steve's blush. "The guns are going to stay in the basement and the only wedding that'll happen this weekend is my son's. I've seen the way she looks at you. Call it father's intuition." He winked.

"So you don't mind that I'm…" He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Son, I gave up on the rational when I saw a green monster throwing another monster across Harlem on CNN. I stopped asking questions _all together_ the moment I realized that the meat head she brought to Aunt Peggy's funeral in a World War II uniform was the same super soldier my aunt told me stories about. I thought she'd lost her goddamned mind when she tried to tell her mother that she'd found you alive." He threw his hands in the air, bursting out into a peal of laughter. "Hey, whatever makes her happy." As his laughter died down, the smile disappeared from his face. "That doesn't mean I'm not still concerned about her."

"Why are you concerned?"

"One day she's applying for grad school with a 3.8 GPA, making her a shoe-in for wherever she wanted to do. Next day, I get a call from her saying she found something in some old papers in Walt's office and wanted to give Peggy some closure, something about a file. She was talking way too fast. So, because of some old piece of paper or something, she's dropped her life. She said Peggy already knew of what she was doing, so I never called her to get her to talk some sense into her. Two years later, I turn on the TV and see the triumphant return of Captain America. Maybe when she finishes with whatever assignment she's on now, she'll go back to school." He looked up at the sky. "I understand there are some things that she _can't _tell me, as much as the lingering flower child in me doesn't like the sheer fact that the government has secrets, but…"

Steve swallowed hard, willing himself to calm down. "I asked her what her plans post-assignment were a few weeks ago." At David's expectant look, he continued. "She's worried that she knows too much for them to let her go. Even if they did let her go, she's convinced they'd pull her back in if things ever went south again."

"What could she know too much about? I thought she was just going through old files on a desk assignment…" He paused mid thought. "Oh god almighty, she was searching _for you_!" He covered his face with his hands. "Do I want to know what she's doing now?"

"Bringing me up to speed on nearly seventy years of history," Steve replied quietly, staring at the knots in the wood on the deck.

"I guess I should be happy that she's using her history degree, right?" David scoffed as he rose from the chair and began pacing around the deck. "You get her to go back to school, keep her safe, and…you can just run away and marry her." Steve opened his mouth to protest, but was met with a hand in the air. "Save you the call in case these things happen for once like they do in the movies."

He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when he felt his phone vibrating in his front pocket. Pulling it out, he realized it was Bess. "Hey."

"_I'm guessing dad left his phone somewhere again. I swear, he's worse than you leaving that damn thing places,_" she moaned over the loud dance music in the background. "_Listen, tell dad he needs to come to Southbound and pick us up. You should probably come too, just in case she needs to be carried. The matron of honor, you know the person who was supposed to be taking care of our little bride, had to bail._"

Pushing the button to put the call on speakerphone, Steve and David both bit back hearty laughs when they heard a whine of "I'm the b-bride, g-goddammit! I w-w-want another drink!" followed by Bess clearly telling her that she didn't need another one in no uncertain terms.

"I thought y'all were just going out to a nice quiet dinner," David commented, sharing a knowing look with Steve.

"_We did! The other two bridesmaids managed to get quiet and demure Grace to start taking fruity shots with them. Next thing I know, the matron of honor's muttering something about her babysitter and running away. Then, Miss Grace gets the amazing idea of going to Southbound and 'continuing the party', although I fail to see how it's a party. The other two bridesmaids escaped, leaving me in charge of your hammered future daughter-in law. Grace, by the way, is not a graceful drunk. Oh god, she's trying to pole dance. Please hurry._"

Steve glanced up at David, both still fighting off laughter. "We're on the way."

* * *

With the bride-to-be safely installed back at her own apartment after a good amount of prodding and carrying, Steve pulled Bess down into his lap as he sat in one of the padded deck chairs back at her parents' house and kissed her on the cheek.

"So what did you do while we were gone?" she asked, taking a sip from the liter sized bottle of water she pulled from the fridge earlier.

"Your dad and I had a nice long talk," he began, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Well, the both of you are still here, so I'm guessing that he didn't bring up Vietnam in any way."

He relayed the content of the conversation, leaving out how he'd been giving the official blessing to wed her the moment she agreed to go back to school. "I thought you said that Peggy got you the assignment because she was scared that you'd get blown up."

"S-she did."

"Then why did you call your dad and tell him that you found a file and wanted to give her some closure?" Steve whispered.

Bess knew she'd been cornered. "I found your file in Walt's office one day, looking for some piece of paper Peggy thought she needed," she admitted. "Suddenly, I realized that her mysterious hero captain was _real_. We all thought she'd made it up! I read the file, saw what happened, and realized I had an opportunity to try to bring her some closure, to repay her for letting me come to New York and live my dream. Grad school could wait until I'd given her the opportunity to give you a hero's burial."

"Then why did you let her call Fury?" he asked, still puzzled.

"I let her think she used her clout to save me. In that instant after they'd pulled your block of ice up, I was going to hand in my resignation, go back to New York, and pick up where I left off. My whole reason for joining this three ring circus was to find you. I'd done that, so there was nothing else for me to do. Then you turned out to be _alive_. When Fury smashed my phone to keep me from calling her, I knew there was no way that I could get out. I didn't fight it when he assigned me to bringing you up to speed. Have you tried arguing with the man?"

Steve smiled. "Once," he winced, remembering the explosion on the helicarrier and the emergence of "The Other Guy".

"Then you know you can't win." She relaxed into his embrace. "I don't regret a day, though."

He kissed the side of her neck softly, smiling when he felt her shudder. "One more question."

"Mmm?"

"I understand why you didn't tell Peggy the truth, but why didn't you tell _me_?" he asked cautiously.

"I didn't exactly intend on you being around this long after. I thought it'd be less painful for you if you thought _she_ never stopped looking." She paused and sighed heavily. "Would you rather have me told you that first night that she stopped looking, even for just a moment? Would you rather have had me tell you that I _knew_ she was dying and wanted to find you for her so she could see you one last time?"

He cleared his throat, burying his face in the back of her tee shirt. "Who all knows the real reason?"

"Fury, my father, Tony, and now you."

"So, that night when you gave the analogy of the two colonels and you said that you were scared Fury would take the assignment away from you? You requested the assignment to find me."

"The only people who thought I could find you were Tony and Agent Coulson. Everyone else looked at me like that colonel that got where he was on daddy's laurels, even Fury. I didn't necessarily want to prove that I could be an agent, I just wanted to prove that I _could_…"

"I know how that feels, believe me," he whispered as he looked up at the clear night sky, remembering how he'd jumped at the chance to be more than a science experiment, how he'd rushed off to free four hundred people just to prove he could do something else other than sell war bonds.

As if he needed another reason to love the feisty redhead…


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** The song for this chapter is "Changes" by David Bowie. It's been stuck in my head for days, and is almost oddly fitting. As always, I own nothing.

Once again, I'd like to thank TrickPhotography for all her help.

Alright kids, here it is. Not too far into this chapter begins the storm I referred to a few chapters ago. After this chapter, there is not much left. There's a chapter sixteen, an epilogue, and a "shawarma scene" (named for the brief scene at the end of _Avengers_ for lack of another word for it). I've got it all written actually. Final edits need to be made, but I hope to have the rest of the story posted within the next ten days or so. Thanks to everyone for being so supportive of my little break. It was much needed. I didn't go and marathon write. I actually had the majority of this chapter, the next chapter, and the epilogue written weeks ago. Just working on editing them all together.

I may be getting a second job, re-entering the world of bartending / waiting tables to make some money so hubby and I can take a real vacation. Good news is the story's all written up, so it won't affect uploading times.

For those who reviewed several chapters ago and got sent a teaser where Loki "congratulates" Steve, look for that snippet and more here. Y'all may need tissues before this is all over…

* * *

Chapter Fifteen – "Changes"

_Time may change me,  
But I can't trace time…_

Steve took a deep breath, letting the calm night air rolling in through the open windows fill his senses as he continued his portion of the drive back to New York from Tennessee. Within the hour, he would be driving Bess's Jeep back across the state line into New York.

He smiled as he looked over at his sleeping girlfriend in the seat next to him. Her red hair pulled back into a ponytail, she rested her head on the reclined back of the cloth seat. She'd been asleep for the past three hours. He figured he'd let her sleep, wake her up when they get back to Manhattan.

_Letting himself get dragged across the newly mown grass at Bess's now sister-in-law's parents' house, Steve rolled his eyes. How many members of her extended family had he met in the past hour at this reception? _

_An elderly man sitting in his wheelchair rolled over to Bess, stopping her in her tracks. "My fair lady Elizabeth," he greeted warmly, his voice heavy with a Southern drawl as he looked up at her through thick glasses. _

_Bess dropped Steve's hand and knelt down to hug him, the skirt of her black dress bunching up in a heap on the grass. "Uncle Mike," she mumbled into his neck._

"_And who's this?" he asked in a voice beginning to falter from age._

_She stood back up. "Uncle Mike, this is my boyfriend, Steve. Steve, this is my mom's uncle, Michael Knight," she said, motioning between the men. _

_Her great-uncle accepted the handshake from the younger man with a wary look in his eye. "Were you by any chance named for a grandfather?"_

"_No. No, I don't think so," Steve replied shakily. "Both of them died before I was born. Why do you ask?"_

_Mike shook his head with a chuckle. "No reason, really. You just look almost exactly like someone I," he paused to clear his throat. "was rather rude to back during the war in Europe, someone who later may have saved us all."_

_Steve suddenly felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. "N-No, they both served in the Pacific, I believe."_

_The older man shook his head sadly. "Pity. I, uh, I never got the chance to apologize to the man for being horribly rude to him."_

"_What man was this, Uncle Mike?" Bess prodded, pretending to be completely oblivious for Steve's sake. _

"_In my defense initially, though, the man _was_ wearing a rather ridiculous outfit and was doing some song-and-dance he'd sold war bonds with back home," he began before looking off into the night sky. _

_Bess, four glasses of wine in, struggled not to laugh at Steve's expense as she watched all color drain out of his face. Peggy had told her a similar story about the troops' reaction to "Captain America" once._

_Mike whipped around to take another look at Steve after a realization hit him like a ton of bricks. His mouth dropped open as he suddenly remembered the recent news coverage of the hubbub in New York. There was a man in a similarly ridiculous outfit running around with a shield. When his mask fell off… "It can't be," he whispered almost inaudibly. "Elizabeth, I need you to do something for me," he said as he reached for one of the powder blue napkins on the nearby table. He unfolded it halfway and poked two holes in it before handing it to her and pointing to Steve's face. When she put it over the oddly familiar man's eyes and nose, he thought the end might finally be near. _

_She threw the napkin on the ground and rushed out from behind Steve to Mike's side. "Are you alright, Uncle Mike?" she asked, voice full of concern as she put her hand on his arm. _

"_Virginia Elizabeth Williams, I need you to tell me where you met him," he wheezed, not daring to look back up at the face, unchanged by time, of the man he'd insulted nearly seventy years earlier._

"_I met him at work, Uncle Mike," she said as calmly as she could, given the fact that she could see in the older man's eyes that he knew exactly who Steve was. _

"_Work for the government." A statement, not a question. _

_Bess nodded. _

"_T-That man's Captain America. Both of 'em," he hissed into her ear._

"_I think you're mistaken, Uncle Mike." She whipped her head around when she heard someone calling her name, asking where Steve put the car keys. "Well, Uncle Mike, I think my mom needs us."_

"_It was nice to meet you, sir," Steve said, finally feeling some blood returning to his face. _

"_C'mon, Steve," she said quietly, taking his arm as they turned to go. _

_There was only one way he could know for sure_. _"Nice boots, Tinkerbell," Mike called out to the retreating man, praying he was wrong._

"_That was _you_?" Steve asked incredulously as he quickly turned back around to face the man in the wheelchair._

* * *

_Late December 2012_

_Six months later…_

"Make the ringing stop," Bess muttered after the ringing of Steve's cell phone woke both of them up. She buried her face in his bare chest to shield her eyes from the early morning rays streaming in through the blinds.

"As soon as I find it," Steve laughed, fumbling for the device that interrupted their sleep. Finally finding it, he slid the button to accept the call. "Director?"

"_Rogers, we need you to come down ASAP. Everyone else is already in route._"

"Is something wrong?" he asked, regrettably having to motion for Bess to stop kissing a slow, seductive trail down his chest.

"_Something's so wrong Thor's brought Loki with him, hoping he knows how to stop what's about to happen._"

"I'm on my way," he said, ending the call. He threw off the soft blankets and scrambled to find his discarded clothing from the night before.

"My god, your ass is magnificent in the morning light." She laughed, surveying his naked body. "So what's got Fury all rattled?" Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she sat up and watched her lover get dressed.

"He didn't say," Steve said softly, pulling a wrinkled Dodgers tee shirt over his tousled hair while sliding on some brown shoes. "Go back to sleep," he whispered before kissing her on the forehead. "I should be back before you know it." He tried to make that last part sound as convincing as possible, for her sake _and_ his.

Bess fell back onto the pillow. "Famous last words." She caught his hand and pulled him back down onto the bed, pressing her lips to his for a fierce kiss. "Go get 'em, tiger," she said with a wink.

He shook his head. "I love you, Bess."

"I love you too."

* * *

"Hmm…" Tony began, eyeing Steve's wrinkled clothing. "That shirt's clearly been balled up and thrown across the room. Pants too. Shoes that don't match the clothes? I'm guessing you got the call bright and early this morning."

"Stop it, Stark," he warned, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to try to wake up more before the meeting started.

"I'm beginning to think it's a _good _thing that I soundproofed the apartments, huh?" He winked. "When should we expect see little bitty Steve and Bess's running around, eh?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "It's far too early in the morning."

Tony opened his mouth to continue the verbal winding-up of Steve Rogers, but was met with a slap on the back of the head from another redhead that wasn't afraid of him.

"Seriously, Mister Stark? It is far too early in the morning for this."

_What is it with redheads and standing up to Tony? Maybe I ought to get some hair dye and punch him…_ The corner of Steve's mouth turned up in a half-smile. He owed the man a lot, but that didn't mean he couldn't take him down a peg once.

"Good morning to you too, Agent Romanoff," Tony groaned, rubbing the back of his head that stung from her slap. Thankful to see Bruce Banner enter the room on the other side, he headed over towards him. _Maybe he won't hit me…_

Looking up when the door opened, Steve froze. Ten feet in front of him stood Loki Laufeyson in the flesh…again. His long fingers ghosted over the black leather backed chairs as he made his way over to the super soldier. "I hear that you are no longer out of time, Captain," the silky voice said. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"For what?" Steve replied, eying the god warily as he folded his arms over his broad chest.

A Cheshire cat grin spread across Loki's face before he leaned over to whisper into Steve's ear: "That blonde boy you see in your dreams? You know what I'm talking about. The boy with no name?"

He whipped his head around to face him. "How do you know my dreams?"

"I wouldn't be the God of Mischief if I didn't cause some from time to time, now would I?" He laughed softly, emerald eyes sparkling. "That child that you see is growing inside your _plaything _as we speak."

Steve's blood ran cold at the sound of the epithet used for Bess in "the big one" shortly before she died in his arms. "You…"

"…Sent the dreams?" Loki finished. "She is far enough along that a Midgardian pregnancy test can confirm it if you do not believe me," he said before walking away.

With a shaking hand, he reached in his pocket for his phone and dialed Bess. "I need you to do something for me. I need to find out whether or not you're pregnant."  
"_You_ _want me to do what_?" Bess asked in disbelief.

"Just find out. I don't know how it's done anymore. Used to be something about a rabbit…"

"_Pee on a stick. They haven't used rabbits in years. Why are you asking me this? I've been on birth control since I was sixteen. There's no way I could be…_"

"Bess, please do this," he pleaded softly. "If it's negative, then Loki's just jerking my chain."

"_What does the Norse god of Lies and Mischief have to do with this?_"

"If it's positive…" He trailed off, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. "If it's positive, he was in my head."

* * *

Steve listened in horror as the meeting wore on and he heard all about this strange alien named Thanos. This character might actually succeed where Loki had failed. Looking over, he saw Tony lost in thought beside him. He jumped when he felt a hand clap over his left shoulder and saw one descend onto Tony's right.

"Gentlemen, it might be a good idea to get Miss Potts and Agent Williams and bring them here while there's still time. They won't be safe at Stark Tower when this goes down," Fury said in a moment of compassion. "Go get them and come straight back." He turned to leave, black leather trench coat swirling at his ankles.

"Need a ride, Captain?" Tony asked, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. "We'll take a larger car back here so no one's sitting on your lap again."

"G-good plan," Steve agreed, mindlessly following Tony to the sports car _du jour_ as he dialed Bess again.

"_Steve?_" she greeted when she picked up, voice thick with tears.

"Bess, what's wrong? I'm on the way back with Tony right now," he reassured as he got into the car and it began to drive away.

"_He was right, Steve. How could this have happened?_"

"I need to hear you say it, Bess," he whispered, earning a questioning look from Tony. "I need you to tell me."

"_Steve, I'm pregnant_."

The initial spirit-uplifting feeling of elation was soon replaced by devastation. She _was_ pregnant. Loki was right. He hadn't lied. On top of that, there wouldn't be time to celebrate the happy news now that something called an Eternal was on his way to Earth. _Maybe there's time to do something else, though_, Steve thought as he recalled the conversation with her father around the fire.

"_Say something_," she pleaded when he didn't respond at all.

"Promise me when this is all over, you'll quit SHIELD and go back to school," he said calmly, as Tony began mouthing "what the fuck is going on" at him.

"_W-what does that have to do with the fact I'm pregnant? What's going on, Steve?_"

"I'm naming my price for going to the wedding with you," Steve whispered as he tried to hide the panic rising in his voice.

"_I hardly think that now's the time,_" she said, clearly annoyed.

"Your father said that if I got you to go back to school, I had his permission to marry you. Now's the perfect time. You're pregnant. It's the right thing to do."

"What in god's name is going on?" Tony shouted, pulling back into the parking garage for Stark Tower. He quickly dialed Pepper to tell her to have a bag ready to go when they got up to her.

"_Steve, I… Times have changed. You don't have to do this…_"

"_I _have to. I'm not one hundred percent sure what's going on, but I that I'd feel much better sticking my neck out this time knowing that you're my _wife_. If something were to happen to me, you and our child would be protected. Promise me you'll go back to school…" He paused to enter the elevator with Tony. "…And we'll make a pit stop on the way back to SHIELD."

"_There's not time to get a ring…_"

"We can use Peggy and Walt's rings until I get back. Say you'll go back to school so I can properly ask when I get up there. You won't have to worry about assigning my remaining education to someone else if we're married."

"_I promise to go back to school when this is all over_," she whispered.

* * *

Secure in the knowledge Bess and Pepper were tucked safely into one of the subterranean areas of SHIELD, Steve went back upstairs to put his suit on. For the entire elevator ride, the only thing he could think about was the fact that he'd just gotten an expedited marriage license, gotten married quickly in a Dodgers tee shirt, and was now going to be a father. He absentmindedly licked his lips at the memory of the searing goodbye kiss she'd given him before he left her downstairs. All he had to do now was hold up to his promise to come back to his wife and, if Loki was right again, his son. He smiled at the borrowed thick silver band now circling his left ring finger. Somehow, he didn't think Peggy would mind us just continuing to use the rings, especially if they just added to the inscription…

He suddenly laid down the gloves and helmet on the lone bench in the room, kneeling in front of it. His heart began to pound as he made the sign of the cross for the first time in seventy years before folding his hands in front of his face.

"It has been far too long since I've prayed. The last time I went into battle, I had nothing to fight for, save for my country. I never thought I'd actually be a father, but now that my son is on the way, I want nothing more than to be able to meet him. There were far too many war widows the last time I went to war. Please don't let Bess be one of them now. Give me the strength to protect and keep her safe as I protected her great aunt so many years ago." He paused, using every ounce of willpower he possessed not to cry. "I never thought that I would be capable of love again, Lord, but I love Bess more than I ever thought possible. I cursed you when I woke up in this unfamiliar time, I know. I didn't understand what reason you could possibly have for tormenting me by taking away everyone I knew and loved. Then, in that moment where she said that she would have been honored to go on a date with the ninety pound asthmatic that I used to be, I realized that _she_ might be the reason that you sent me here. Clearly, Peggy and I were never meant to be together. She moved on and found happiness. You meant for me to as well. And I have, Lord. I've found a place in this world, and it is in the arms of Virginia Elizabeth Willi…Rogers."

Tony Stark rounded the corner and opened his mouth inside his suit to get Steve's attention, but froze. Even Tony Stark, the man many said didn't have a heart, could recognize that a man was praying. There were some things that even he knew not to interrupt.

Steve paused to wipe away a tear that escaped. "If it is not in your plan to spare me, Lord, please at least spare Tony Stark. He and I have never exactly seen eye to eye, but I know he will watch over my wife and son in my absence."

Time slowed down and Tony thought his arc reactor might have stopped. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? Did he just hear that Steve Rogers, the man he'd taunted and called names, tell his Creator that he trusted a "genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist" to take care of the two things he cared for most in the world? He felt a lump form in his throat at the realization that Spangl…Steve was right. He _would_ take care of Bess if anything happened to her soldier. How could he not? She was the little sister he never had. "This isn't an admission that something's up there," he prayed silently as he stared up at the white textured ceiling, "but if someone is, let Steve be alright at the end of this. I'm no good with crying women. I might jump out a window having to comfort a pregnant widow. Besides, I'd be a horrible influence on a child. Oh, and if you're up there, help me be the person that he thinks I am." At times like this, he wished he could believe a higher power would answer him.

"Time to go," a slightly computerized version of Tony Stark's voice called upon seeing Steve make the sign of the cross a second time. For once, he was thankful that he had the mask on. He couldn't let Captain America see that Iron Man was crying.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** And here it is, the last official chapter of this story. Actually, two parts of this chapter were used for teasers. So, if you reviewed and received them, keep reading. I cut off the teasers before the "OMG" moments.

Two updates in two days? I think I'm sick, haha. After all the reviews for the previous chapter begging me not to take too long to get this up, I decided to ease tensions since I already had this written. As I stated previously, there will be an epilogue and a "shawarama scene", so there will be two uploads after this one. Don't leave me yet! Those two should be up by the end of the weekend. I need to edit the epilogue before posting.

You guys are awesome! I'm now up to 94 reviews. Let's see if we can't get this to 100 before I end it? Love y'all!

As always, I own nothing. I'm just playing with Marvel and Disney's toys. I'll put them back when I'm done. Many thanks to TrickPhotography for all her help.

Chapter Sixteen – "I'll Be Home for Christmas"

_I'll be home for Christmas  
You can count on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree  
Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams…_

Bess suddenly felt relieved when she saw two Thor, Loki, Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton, and Tony Stark (sans the Iron Man mask) walk in looking battered, bruised, and cut up. The God of Thunder had the God of Mischief by the collar shouting something about if he ever pulled a stunt like this and got an Eternal involved again… _Wait, what's an Eternal?_

She suddenly knew something had to be wrong. Where was Steve? Her heart almost stopped when she saw what looked like a heavily bandaged American flag being rolled in on a gurney, completely unresponsive to the doctor poking and prodding it. She attempted to make a run for it and jump onto the gurney, but a pair of thin, freckled arms stopped her.

"They'll let us in when they're ready, Bess. No sense in upsetting yourself or the little mini-Rogers in there," Pepper whispered as the younger woman began to use her tee shirt as a tissue.

She suddenly spun out of Pepper's arms and made a beeline for the nearby trashcan and began to wretch after falling to her knees on the cold tile floor, emptying the contents of her stomach as she clutched the sides of the metal can. A sense of déjà-vu came over her causing a sad smile to cross her face…

_ Pulling the oversized black parka closer to her shivering body, Bess followed the agent to the hole that had been cut into the top of the craft earlier in the day. "Did anyone touch anything?" she shouted over the howling winds as a faceless agent strapped her into a harness. _

"_We dusted off part of the shield," one of the guys from Washington shouted back, his face completely covered with a mask, making it impossible for Bess to identify the man. _

"_And you're sure that it's…"_

"_All due respect, ma'am, if we weren't damn sure, we'd all be nice and warm in our beds at home," he growled. _

"_Lower me down," Bess ordered with a smirk, unable to say the sentence without accidentally slipping into an Austrian accent in imitation of Elsa from _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_. This was her "knight's shield", the next clue in the location of her "holy grail", Captain America. If they found the shield, his body couldn't be far away. She felt her parka pockets for the tools she stuffed in before getting onto the snowmobile. She clipped herself onto the rope and began a slow descent into the wreckage, shining her light through all corners until she hit the ground. What kind of ship is this? _

"_Walk towards the captain's chair at the front," a voice called over the radio. _

_She squinted when her flashlight reflected brightly back in her eyes. Catching a brief glance of red, white, and blue, she broke into a dead sprint before dropping to her knees in front of the ice-encrusted Captain America shield. Her nervous system took over, flooding her senses with adrenaline, causing her to frantically dig at the snow around the shield. Despite her thick snowsuit and gloves, she continued to shiver. When her fingers met ice, she stopped digging and began to brush the snowy layers off. "It's him! It's Captain America!" she shouted once she'd moved enough snow off the block of ice to see a face. _

"_Even the jar heads who found the shield knew that, Agent Williams," a voice boomed from behind her. _

_Bess whirled around to see Director Fury, similarly bundled up and making his way over to her. Three other agents slid down the rope behind him with pickaxes. She looked back down at the frozen visage of "Peggy's Captain", taking in his angular facial features. She couldn't help but smile in the moment. _He really does look like he's made of "baseball, mom, and apple pie" all rolled into one…

_That thought quickly faded, only to be replaced by one of Peggy_. How am I going to tell her that he's dead after all this time? I'm sure she's always known in the back of her mind, but…_She knew deep down that if finding out that he was dead didn't kill her aunt, the sight of him completely unchanged after all this time would. She suddenly felt bile rising in her throat and couldn't fight the urge, emptying the contents of her stomach all over the snow. _

_She stood__ ramrod straight after wiping the vomit away on the parka, shaking with a combination of the bitter cold and ominous dread as the three men with equipment brushed her out of the way to begin extricating the long-lost Captain America from his icy prison. _

_Bess made for the rope at the other end of the cockpit. She didn't remember shouting to be pulled up, but before she realized what happened, she was standing in the tent that had been set up to begin a forensic investigation. Once again, she soon found herself pushed aside by the other faceless agents and a block of ice whose Christian name was Steven Rogers. She watched the strange people in white parkas begin to melt the ice around him for a while before turning to leave the tent. Suddenly, a cry of "Oh my god, this guy's still alive!" met her ears. She ran back towards the table, knocking one of the agents out of the way and threw her gloves to the ground. She shoved her left index and middle fingers onto Steve's frigid neck, bursting into tears upon feeling the faint pulse._

_With trembling hands, she began to pull her cell phone out of an inner jacket pocket, bracing herself for Peggy's reaction. No sooner had she selected Peggy's contact picture, she saw the phone swiftly snatched from her and crushed underneath Fury's boot. _

"_Any communication with Agent Gorman about this would be considered leaking classified information," he scolded as he ground the phone into the ice. "When it's time to tell her, we will tell her." _

* * *

Exhausted and well aware of the fact that she hadn't bathed in twenty-four hours, Bess sat in the stiff vinyl-coated folding chair beside Steve's hospital bed in SHIELD's medical ward as thoughts flooded her mind. Why had he told her to take a pregnancy test? How had her birth control failed that badly? How far along was she? She'd kept taking the pills along with the occasional alcoholic beverage…was the baby alright?

Despite her evident exhaustion, as well as numerous nudges by many people to go home and rest, she propped her chin up in her hand and took his unresponsive left hand into her right, rubbing reassuring circles into the back of his hand with her thumb. Bess looked up at his sleeping face, his head bandaged heavily, as well as a good portion of his torso and his right leg. "You can't sleep for years again, Steve," she whispered as she fought back a tear. She couldn't help but offer a silent wish that she'd be able to take him home for Christmas. The tear she'd tried to hide fell anyway as Bing Crosby's "I'll Be Home for Christmas" filled her head. "Someone has to go out and get me pickles and shitty tacos at four in the morning. Someone has to keep Tony from becoming _too_ bad of an influence on…"

"Lady Bess!" a voice boomed from the door of the sterile white hospital room, causing Bess to snap her head away from her unconscious husband.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Standing up, she walked over to greet the burly man. "Honestly, it's just Bess," she said, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever when he bowed and kissed her hand. "And I would assume that you would be Thor."

"Yes, Lady Bess, I am Thor."

_You know what? I'm just not even going to keep correcting him._ She began to gnaw on the fingernail on her left index finger.

The God of Thunder shifted his gaze to his unconscious friend in the bed. "I understand congratulations are in order for you and Captain Rogers," he said, eyes locked on Steve.

"How did you…"

"Captain Rogers had his glove off before the battle," Thor cut in. "Agent Romanoff spotted a ring on his finger and questioned him about it. I understand the exchanging of rings is part of a traditional marriage ceremony here on Midgard. I see you wear a similar ring on the same finger." He motioned towards the hand she had dangling from her mouth.

She smiled. "Yes. We were married shortly before you left to fight."

"Surely such an occasion calls for a celebration!" he argued. "A feast, at least."

"There wasn't time, Thor," she lamented. "He wanted me to be taken care of in case something happened to him."

Suddenly, a light went off somewhere in the recesses of Thor's thick skull. "You are with child, the captain's heir."

The fact that he offered his observation as a statement rather than a question did not go unnoticed. She turned to Thor and eyed him skeptically. "I had no idea that I was until yesterday. When Steve called to ask me to find out if I could be, he mentioned something about your brother Loki. Something about if I was pregnant, it would mean that Loki was in his head."

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Excuse me for one moment, Lady Bess," he grumbled before quickly exiting the recovery room. He returned a moment later holding the God of Mischief by the collar of his armor. "Brother, I believe that you and the Lady Bess need to have a conversation."

"Then leave us, _brother_," Loki requested. His green eyes intently bored into Bess's brown ones as if to plead with her to hear him out. "After all, we all know that this room is heavily guarded and under constant surveillance. Even if I did not wear these chains, any attempt on Miss Willia…excuse me, Mrs. Rogers' life would be met by swift justice, instant justice if her soldier should happen to wake."

"Lady Bess, will you be alright?" Thor asked, his words full of unspoken concern for the mortal in the delicate condition.

She glared at Loki, silently conveying her message of "I don't need others to take care of you should you misbehave", before looking to Thor. "I'll be fine, Thor. Thank you for your concern."

Thor bowed his head and left the white room, shutting the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, Bess turned toward the God of Mischief. "Why did they bring you back to earth?"

Loki cleared his throat, sporting a sad smile. "It turns out that if you make a bargain with the wrong people and cannot deliver on your side, the other party involved tends to get angry."

She reluctantly nodded in agreement. "They do tend to do that."

"I have a feeling that Thor did not drag me in here for idle chat about my dealings with nefarious beings from realms unknown," he quipped.

"You're right. He didn't." Bess folded her hands in her lap, trying to calmly form her next words. "That first nightmare was one hell of a nightmare. He begged for death. You sent them, didn't you?"

Loki laughed softly. "You are very perceptive for a mortal. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Not in so many words, no they haven't. Now, you're going to tell me why you tormented that poor man." She crossed her arms over her v-neck sweater covered chest.

"Did he never tell you of the good dreams?" When she shook her head, he smirked. "May I?" he asked, his hand stretched towards her head silently asking for permission to touch her.

"Is this like the Vulcan Mind Meld?" Bess looked at him skeptically.

"I do not know what that is, but I will be transferring images from my mind to yours, so make of that what you will." He closed his eyes and touched her right temple as best he could given his restraints, flooding her mind with images from Steve's good dreams.

These weren't the dreams that he'd told her about. These were…wonderful, dreams of their future and a family. "Those are good dreams, yes, but you still haven't told me why," she said as he removed his hand from her person.

Loki folded his hands in his lap, choosing his words carefully before continuing. "What wins wars?" he asked. When her face scrunched up in confusion, he quickly spoke again. "There is a point I need to make sure you understand before I answer your question."

_Okay, I'm officially intrigued. _"Soldiers," she answered firmly and without further hesitation.

He rocked his dark head of hair back and forth several times, mulling over her answer. "Yes and no. Let us go about arriving at my point another way. Why did your Continental Army defeat the British Army in 1783 in a war that they should have by all rights lost? You Americans had no national government, no national army, no established financial system, no international allies at first. It was as if a mouse had declared war on a lion."

She furrowed her brow in thought as her inner historian came to light, rattling off reasons for the American advantage. "The British weren't on their home ground. They were on ours. People had lived in places for years and could use the natural terrain to launch guerilla-style attacks by local militia. We didn't rely on imports. The British allowed commissions to be purchased by wealthy people with no military experience as well as pardoned criminals upon conscription in the army…"

Loki had begun to support a wide grin. "No wonder your soldier loves you. Your tactical brains are similar. In hindsight, maybe I would have been successful in my attempts to conquer Midgard by enlisting _him _to lead my army." Noticing that she wasn't amused, he cleared his throat. "But I digress, my dear. You were painfully close to the point. The British allowed commissions to be purchased and pardoned criminals to bolster their ranks. They also hired Hessian mercenaries, did they not?"

She nodded in agreement, still not quite at the point Loki had been hinting at.

"So one side of this war was fought by criminals, mercenaries, and people who had no idea what it meant to be a military officer. The other side was fought by…" He trailed off to allow her to finish the point.

"By people who were invested in the cause of liberty from tyranny?" she questioned, hoping this was the correct answer.

"By people who had something to fight _for_, yes."

She stood up from her chair and put a hand on her hip. "Since when did you become an expert on the American Revolution, Mister 'Freedom Is Life's Great Lie'? Don't think Steve didn't tell me about your little act in Stuttgart."

"When…in prison, Mrs. Rogers, one has time to think. Long, uninterrupted stretches of time to think. But hold the thought of 'something to fight for' while I answer your question. No matter how much you may teach him," he began, motioning toward the still-slumbering soldier, "there are still things that he will never fully understand about this time. It can be discouraging. Now, a soldier having 'his best girl'" Loki said, clearly mocking Steve's tone, "to come home to at the present is certainly motivation for fighting. Tell me though, why do men seek to improve themselves?"

"So that their children have a chance at a better life than their parents had?" she responded, hesitating slightly as she regurgitated the line her parents had given her thousands of times.

Loki's green eyes began to sparkle. "Exactly. If a man is fighting not only for himself and his 'girl', but also for his heir, he will fight all the harder, don't you think?"

Bess laughed in disbelief. "So you gave Steve dreams of a future family so he'd fight harder?"

Completely unnoticed by Bess and the God of Mischief, Steve's eyes began to blink open. Hearing an exchange he never thought he'd ever hear, he kept his eyes mostly closed until he could figure out what was happening. He could make out Bess's beautiful tones. He'd saved her. He never thought he'd hear her talking to _Loki_ of all people… Wait, what was this about him fighting harder?

"What about the others?" she spat. "What did you have to do to get them to fight harder? Surely they're not all pregnant, too!"

"The others?" he asked with a laugh. "I didn't have to worry about the others. The monster fights for redemption. Agent Barton fights for Agent Romanoff. Agent Romanoff fights to clear her ledger. My brother fights to defend this planet and his beloved Jane Foster. Tony Stark? I do not worry for Tony Stark. I have personally seen him catch a bomb and carry it into space, knowing he might not return. I gave the soldier the dreams, yes, but I also gave him the family. It took little effort to render those pills you take inert," Loki answered smugly.

Before Steve could muster enough strength to throw Loki across the room, he saw both of Bess's hands close around Loki's throat as his face began turning pale.

Her eyes narrowed as she felt a blood vessel in her right eyelid begin to twitch in anger. "_You_ manipulated my _pills_?" she asked, still having trouble believing what she was hearing. "I've drunk alcohol, too. Here on _Midgard_, that's not good for a baby."

He thrust a hand onto her stomach. "Believe me when I say your _son_ is quite safe. I gave him something to fight for!"

"My son?" she shrieked, tightening her grip around his neck.

"Get your hands off my _wife_," Steve managed in a raspy voice, "or I'll kill you, god or not."

At the sound of Steve's voice, tears of joy began pouring from her eyes. With the help of copious amounts of adrenaline, she grabbed Loki by his black leather collar and shoved him across the room before jumping into the small bed with Steve.

"She was the one with her hands on me, Captain," Loki wheezed from the white tile floor, still trying to recover from the assault on his windpipe.

"I don't care," Steve said as forcefully as he could, pulling her in for a hug before realizing that his entire torso hurt. "Maybe later, huh?" he whispered, giving her a quick kiss.

"Thor, come get your brother," Bess called, nuzzling into her husband's neck. She heard the door open, but didn't even bother looking up.

"The lady's right, Thor, take your brother out of here," a deep voice that definitely did not belong to Thor laughed at the sight of the God of Mischief nursing his wounds. "Clearly he's no match for a pregnant woman."

"D-Director Fury," she said as she cleared her throat and sat up on the bed.

Fury held up his hand as Thor pulled Loki from the room. "I don't want to know, so don't tell me." He looked at the unlikely couple and shook his head before clasping his arms behind his back. "Gossip around the water cooler said the two of you decided to get hitched before the Captain went into battle. The conversation I just heard from the other side of that door tells me that double congratulations are in order."

"Sir, I…" Bess began before Fury silenced her again as he produced a folder from the inside of his jacket.

He fingered the folder. "Agent Williams, you are hereby relieved of your duties to SHIELD as it is apparent that you're going to have some serious other duties to attend to. Captain Rogers, I was going to hand this folder to you when you were awake to get your opinion, but you are going on hiatus either until you're completely healed up or two months from now, whichever comes last."

"But sir," he started, trying to sit up, but quickly finding himself unable to.

Fury shoved the folder back into his jacket, mustering as much of a smile as his surly disposition was able to. "Ask me about the Winter Soldier after you get back from your honeymoon."


	17. Epilogue

**There is one more part after this! Shawarma! Don't forget!  
**

Epilogue – "Girls of Summer"

_My favorite thing that drives me wild  
Is when a city girl walks a country mile  
For a boy she loves God bless the child  
Inside the girls of summer…_

_Six years later…_

"Daddy, I'm _bored_," the little boy whined, trying to squirm out of his father's lap. When the child realized that, yet again, his attempt was futile, he looked up at his captor with his mother's brown eyes. "Can I at least go see grandma?"

Reluctantly, Steve set the five year old down and tousled his blonde curls with a smile. "Only if you behave."

James Phillip Rogers thrust his small thumb into his mouth, walked two steps, and proceeded to crawl up into Bess's mother's lap. As the opening graduation ceremony speeches began to drag on, he fell asleep in the crook of her neck.

Steve felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, praying that it wasn't Fury. A message from Stark, he could handle, but not the SHIELD director. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was from Bess.

_I hope I don't fall. I didn't fall last time, but that doesn't mean there's not a first time for everything, especially with this ridiculous get-up I have to wear. _

He smiled, and typed a quick reply: _You'll be fine. Why do you think you'll fall?_

_I almost passed out in the bathroom earlier…_

A look of panic crossed his face, but before he could type a response asking if his wife was alright, a second message from her popped up.

…_from joy. _

Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly concerned that he'd missed something. Was she _that_ excited about getting her PhD? His question answered itself when a picture message popped up. The picture was just of a blurry plus sign accompanied by a short message: _Ready to be a daddy a second time? : - )_ He covered his mouth with his spare hand, trying to keep everyone else around him from seeing the face-breaking smile he had begun to sport, looking down just in time to see Bess, with a multi-colored…sash (for lack of a better word) around her neck shaking hands with a professor before walking off the stage. He shot a glance at his old friend sitting next to him, unable to hide his joy as he tilted the phone over to allow Bucky to read the message from Bess.

James "Bucky" Barnes shook his head in disbelief. "If you asked me when I left you at the World Expo whether or not I believed you could get a girl to give you the time of day, I would have probably said no. Now, I get brought back into the world with this new-fangled bionic arm, you're completely unfazed by time, and about to be a daddy again? I may need to go hide for another couple of decades."

Steve punched his friend softly on his one remaining good arm. _Absolutely! Are you ready to go teach some UNWILLING students?_ He replied quickly, seeing her sit back down in the crowd.

_Absolutely, if by "teach" you mean "torture with pregnancy hormones". And I'll have the hottest house-husband of all the teachers there. _

Down in the sea of graduates waiting for the ceremony, Bess shut off the screen to her phone and gazed down at her left hand. They'd promised to get new rings after Steve got back from helping defeat Thanos, but the preparations for a new baby pushed those plans back. After James was born, they'd simply added "_SR + VW 12/20/2012_" to the interior of the wedding bands next to the worn "_WG + PC 1/7/1949_".

The adjustment to married life was simple. The only things that had noticeably changed for them were Bess's last name and Steve moved his clothes into her massive closet, converting his room into a room for the baby.

As soon as Steve had recuperated from his severe injuries, she kept her promise and enrolled in graduate school at Columbia. She sent her first semester class schedule to her father as soon as it was available, complete with a note from Steve: "Just like in the movies, sir."

The world had been relatively silent since Thanos's defeat with minor brushes with things Bess decided not to ask questions about. It took her six years to complete the doctorate in history instead of the usual four on account of a rowdy little boy who happened to be the spitting image of his father. Bess joked that her only contribution to said baby was the eye color and the stubborn streak that would have made Peggy proud.

Ever since she'd taken the pregnancy test in the bathroom stall before her ceremony, she'd been silently praying for a little girl. Yes, it'd be fun to have someone to take to get her hair done with, but she secretly wanted to watch her super-soldier husband go completely soft over a little girl. She'd almost missed the cue to stand up exit the auditorium because her thoughts turned from Steve spoiling a daughter rotten to him throwing her first boyfriend across a Manhattan intersection without breaking a sweat…


	18. Shawarma Scene after epilogue

"Shawarma Scene"

_Memory lane up in the headlights_

_Has got me reminiscing on them good times…_

_Eighteen years later…_

Bess Rogers sat behind the old oak desk in the front of her classroom rifling through the mass of papers desperately trying to find the envelope containing her AP Modern European History class roster before the first class of the year started…in under fifteen minutes.

The now forty-two year old high school teacher's copper hair didn't show a day of her age. She'd never dyed her hair. She swore she never would. She proceeded to break her oath the day she discovered that even redheads could go grey when she found a single grey hair a month after giving birth to her first child. Immediately suppressing the urge to scream bloody murder, she passed their infant son to Steve and made for the door. When he questioned where she was going in a panicked voice, she responded quickly that she'd forgotten that she made a hair appointment just to get her out of the house for a while. When she returned, Steve was none the wiser about her new hair color. Thankfully.

Her quiet search was interrupted by a small knock on the wooden door frame of the classroom. When she looked up, she found herself staring into a pair of eyes that could have only come from one person – Tony Stark. However, this teenager standing in front of her was most assuredly not her old friend. These eyes combined with Tony's brown hair and Pepper Potts' nose and mouth could only belong to Tony and Pepper's only child, Howard Anthony Stark.

"Howie, what are you doing here? I didn't think you wanted to take any more history classes. This one _is_ optional, you know," she said with a grin, knowing that the boy in front of her would rather have quit school as soon as he legally could to work with his father in the laboratory all day. He probably would have, too, if not for this same father.

The boy smiled sadly. "I didn't want to take it, but dad said I had to, said this was one class I didn't want to miss."

Bess's mouth dropped open as the memory of what Tony told her years before when he first offered her a place in Stark Tower: _I don't want to ever reproduce if there's no chance that they'll be able to annoy you in a classroom in eighteen years._

"A-Aunt Bess?" he asked hesitantly after she dropped her head onto the wooden desk with a thud. "Are you alright?"

She lifted her head when she heard the concern in his voice. "I'm fine," she assured, trying valiantly to suppress her laughter. "Just remembering the reason your dad wanted me to become a teacher."

**Author's Note:** After struggling with a name for Tony and Pepper's son, a friend checked into Marvel canon for me. Sure enough, Tony has a son in one of the comics named Howard Anthony Stark. For lack of a better name, y'all have met Howard Anthony Stark.

Well, here it is, kids. Here's the end of our journey with Steve and Bess. I don't plan on writing a sequel. I'm no good with them. I'd like to say a special thank you to TrickPhotography for all her help throughout this story. Couldn't have done it without a fellow Steve-torturer.

Thank all of you for reading, favoriting, alerting, and reviewing. This is the first story I've ever written to top 100 reviews. Thanks for all your support. I wish I could thank you better than simple words, but sadly I cannot.

I'm having a "they really, really like me" moment.

Love you all,

Jen


	19. IMPORTANT UPDATE

**Update:** Hey y'all! Just stopping by to let you know that I just uploaded the prologue to my second Avengers story, Love Is Not a Gadget. I decided to pop by because this new story will have a good portion of Steve goodies, although it's going to eventually be Tony/OC and Steve/surprise character.

I've been working on this for a good long while now, with **TrickPhotography** and her watchful eye. This new story won't be updated as fast as Memory Lane was, because I'm working two jobs…and knitting a baby blanket for my boss (because I'm the best secretary ever).

I can't wait to hear what you think!

Jen


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